This Time Around
by Fall Risk the Trash Panda
Summary: It took him 3 months, but Rick finally figured out what he wanted. Only problem is, he may have come back too late to make amends. A little AU/What would happen if… for Drew and Rick. Warnings inside.
1. Chapter 1

**This Time Around**

 **Summary:** It took him 3 months, but Rick finally figured out what he wanted. Only problem is, he may have come back too late to make amends. A little AU/What would happen if… for Drew and Rick.

 **Warnings** : war related violence, torture (not graphic), cursing, M/M relationship (duh), talk of depression/PTSD, maybe other things….

-line-

5:41 PM, San Antonio

Rick took a deep breath and reached for door handle of his rental car. His heart was racing and he felt slightly nauseous, hell even his palms were sweating. His nerves were a mix of awkward fifteen-year-old kid on his first date and an Army Ranger prepping for battle. Now would just be the perfect time for _Love is a Battlefield_ to come on the radio and that thought made him laugh.

He shook his head, the humor dying as he remembered why he was here. "Come on Lincoln, time to face the music," he sighed to himself as he finally got up the courage to step out of the car. He had been sitting in the parking lot of San Antonio Memorial's ER for almost two hours working up the nerve to go inside. The night shift was all in now and Rick knew this would be the moment of truth. It was now or never and he was going to see if Drew Alister could forgive him for walking out.

The past three months had been a whirlwind of emotions and introspective soul searching. It had been hard and in so many ways worse than the pit of a desert had ever been. But, in the end it was so much better, maybe even worth it. He had come out to his parents, made peace with his accident, reconnected with old friends, and found the strength to move forward. What he couldn't do, however, was forget about Drew. That was the one aspect of his 'past' he couldn't move on from, and he finally accepted what that meant.

The first month Drew had reached out to him, tried to get in touch. He had ignored the calls and the emails thinking eventually he would move on. It seemed like he had, maybe, because the calls stopped and the emails disappeared. He hated to admit it at the time, but that hurt more than he thought it would. It was like Drew finally gave up on him. Walking away that night in the ER had felt like the right thing, the best thing to do for Drew and himself. He had felt so lost, so broken, and useless that, in his mind, all he was going to do was drag Drew down. He couldn't do that to the man he loved. That night he was trying to give Drew back his life. It took three months to realize he was being a self-centered asshole. That realization hit hard when the news broke of Drew's hometown heroics.

Watching his ex's life splashed across the screen for the entire world to see, watching as the media got ahold of their life together…. God it was terrible. Drew was so private and so reserved… coming out had been forced on him and he was still living with a foot in the closet. Now however, there was no going back from this. He had gotten the almost frantic plea from Drew to believe that he hadn't given them the picture and it hurt him, that Drew was scared he'd screw things up for him. Watching the interview on YouTube where Drew finally stepped out of the closet fully was the last straw.

Problem was, he hadn't gotten the message or learned of any of this until two weeks after it happened. His dad, brother, and he had taken a hunting trip, deep in the northern Montana woods. No technology, no outside world, just his family and he. It wasn't until he had gotten back to his parents place that he found out. By then he had already decided to reach back out to Drew. Now however, he needed to _see_ him.

He called and got voicemail, over a dozen times. No answer, no return calls. Emails were ignored. It had been a week and he wasn't able to talk to Drew. It would seem that the other may really have moved on then, but Rick had to be sure. He had spent the past three months facing his demons and himself; he was here now to face his biggest mistake. He was going to ask Drew if he'd take him back. If Drew told him to go to hell, well then he would cross that bridge. Right now, he just had to walk into the ER.

It seemed to be a slow start to the night for SAM. Walking in the waiting room, he could see there were only a dozen people there. From his glimpse at the trauma bay, where the ambos dropped off patients, there weren't any traumas either. Looked like a "cold and flu night", as Drew would call it. He'd never say the words slow or quiet, and it was amusing to how the overly logical man believed in the superstition of those words.

Rick snuck past the receptionist while she was helping someone check in and made his way towards the nurse's station. It was the hub of the ER, if Drew wasn't there now, than he would be soon. There was a good chance he'd get to talk to Drew, like actually have a full conversation in one go instead of interspersed between patients. That thought, and the realization he was about to see Drew again, had his heart in his throat.

"I mean, it wasn't that bad until Junior Doctor here said something," Kenny's voice drifted down the hall with sounds of laughter.

"All I said was...was that I am a surgical intern, that's all," Paul stammered, it was easy to tell that he was embarrassed.

"Yeah and then pointed to me and said I'm an ER charge nurse and we got slammed with medical questions the whole time," Kenny chimed in.

"It wasn't that bad," Paul tried weakly to defend himself amongst the laughter.

"Uh-huh, for you maybe. You got all the cute girls and easy questions, I got Bubba who wanted me to look at his foot sore," Kenny quipped.

There was more laughter and Rick paused at the corner. He could see almost all the night shift there; they were definitely having a slow night. Paul and Kenny were in the midst of the group, Paul blushing as Kenny continued to rag on him. It was nice to watch, the family dynamics were wholesome in a weird sort of way. But he couldn't help and feel anxious noticing that Drew was missing.

"Alright guys! We've got a three-vehicle accident coming in! T.C. go catch a ride with the chopper, they're requesting a doc," Topher called as he hung up a phone. "Let's start prepping! Paul, call Scott. Krista you're with me in two. Jordan, take trauma one. Mollie, please get three set up for Scott. Let's go!"

Then just like that, the teasing was forgotten and the family went into action. They looked like a well-trained unit, Rick thought with an amused smile. He waited in his spot a moment as everyone seemed to spread out to perform their preparations. Once most of the crowd had dispersed and Kenny was left up front relatively alone. With no sign of Drew, Rick took a deep breath and walked up to Kenny, because if anyone knew where the missing man was it would be him.

"Hey Kenny," Rick said shifting nervously, getting the attention of the charge nurse.

The other man looked up at him a mixture of surprise and anger. "What are you doing here?" He asked, voice snapping hard enough to make Rick flinch. Clearly Kenny was not his biggest fan.

"I came to see Drew. Is he available?" Rick asked, head bowed.

"Why? You come to twist that knife you left in him? Or maybe you wanna just fuck with his head again, ya know, like a second round or something? Don't know why though cause I mean, you certainly did a fine job the first time. Watched my dude go through some fucked up things but I've got to say, these past few months…." Kenny hissed and Rick could feel the anger streaming off him.

"I came to apologize Kenny. I came to see how he was doing with -" Rick started.

"Now!" Kenny shouted abruptly, slamming his hands down. The sudden noise startled Rick, and just about everyone else in the vicinity. Kenny didn't seem to care. "You come back now?! Man, where were you a month ago when he was being hounded by the press and his life became an opened book? Or where were you two months ago when he got decked in the ER? Or what about that month you left, when he went a whole week of shifts with patients dying? Where were you when he needed someone? Why are you back now? It's too late."

The angry tirade was like physical blows to Rick. Each accusation and hard truth was like a punch to the gut. He knew, he really did, that it wasn't going to be easy and he deserved the angry rants. Hell he even _wanted_ to hear it. He wanted to know what had happened to Drew, what he had been through. He wanted to understand what the past three months had meant to the man because he wanted to make up for it. He wanted to own up and apologize for it. However, right at this moment, Kenny's last words had taken firm hold in his mind. He felt the icy grip of fear wrap tightly around his spine.

"What do you mean too late?" he asked, and there were a million scenarios running through his head.

"What do you care? You're back now, right, now that it's convenient for you? Well Drew ain't here!" Kenny spat out, and he had tears in his eyes.

"Kenny!" Krista called, her voice firm but kind. She had been nearby when the normally happy-go-lucky nurse started shouting. She had made her way over, surprised to see Rick standing there. It had stunned her for a moment, allowing Kenny to keep going. Now, however, seeing how upset Kenny was and the shock on Rick's face, she had to step in. Taking hold of her friend and turning him to face her, she said, "I need your help setting up trauma two. The accident victims are ten minutes out, can you help me with that?"

Kenny took a deep breath and let it out, forcing back his anger, fear, and heartache. He focused on Krista's soothing voice the calmness and the steadiness in her eyes. She was offering him an island in the storm and he took it. "Yeah… I got ya," Kenny said, voice now soft. He quickly walked away, head bowed and not looking at anyone. Krista watched him a moment, taking her own opportunity to ground herself before turning to look at Rick.

The former Ranger looked shell shocked. He was pale, his mouth was hanging open and his eyes were wide; frantic. He focused on Krista and she could sense his fear, even before he spoke she could feel him begging her for answers. "Krista, what does he mean too late? He's not here? What's happened? Where's Drew?" he began.

"Let's go to the break room, okay? I'll explain everything. It's not as bad as you think, I promise," she said softly taking him by the arm. Before disappearing she turned to Mollie who had also witnessed the altercation, and requested, "Call me when the paramedics get here?"

"Yes doctor," the mother like nurse said, "and I'll go help Kenny."

Krista gave her a grateful smile before leading Rick to the ER's break room. She ushered him inside, relieved that it was empty, and made him sit down. "Do you want anything to drink? Coffee...water…?" she asked softly, sitting across from him.

"No!" Rick snapped, slamming his hands down and then balling them into fists and taking a deep breath. "Sorry… there's just a lot running through my head…" The play of emotions on his face was hard to watch, and Krista felt her heart ache for him. She knew why Kenny had gone off, understood it, but she could also see clearly Rick's intentions. He wasn't here to hurt Drew; he really wanted to make it better. It was just a shame that he was three weeks late.

Rick pushed out the air in his lungs and stared at his hands for a long moment before speaking again. "I was on a camping trip with my dad. I had no phone... no computer or Internet... I didn't know anything had happened until I got back home. As soon as I found out I tried calling. I tried emailing. I got no reply so I got on a plane and came here. I thought he was just mad at me or he didn't want to talk to me or something… I was hoping that he just didn't want to see me. But, Krista, what does Kenny mean that it's too late? Is Drew… is he okay?"

"Drew is fine… relatively speaking he's fine. I promise," she quickly reassured.

Rick let out a huge sigh of relief, allowing his body to sag forward. The feeling was so damn overwhelming. It was like hearing about Drew being in Taji Qasr during Iraq all over again. Hell, all the battles that Drew's units were in over his tours when all Rick could do was wait for news. When that news finally did come, when he finally heard Drew's voice… the feeling never failed to leave him dizzy and breathless.

"Whe- where is he?" Rick asked, looking up at Krista.

"He's been deployed. He got the news about a month or so ago. The week of the shooting? That was his last week of work before he had to report in," Krista said softly, taking Rick's hand.

The relief that had been flooding his system only moments ago was gone. That icy grip of fear was back, and this time it wasn't going to let go. "Deployed?!" he repeated, "He's… he's going back over?"

"He's already back, a medical base in Afghanistan. He's a Captain now. He said he'd never see the action only patients," Krista was quick to reassure him. "But it's hard… we just got a message from him today before shift," she reached into her scrub pocket and pulled out her phone, brining up on it an email before handing it to him.

 _Landed safe. Talk when I can. Drew_ , Rick read before handing the phone back.

"We just got that today… but the message is a few days behind, so Kenny's…" she said with a shrug.

"He's worried…. They probably didn't give him the account until after he got in country. Then there's always a delay with the first message because they have to activate it…." Rick said. He had gone through this before, done this before, in more ways than one.

"He warned us about that, but Kenny and Drew… they're like brothers. Best friends. Kenny and I, we were there to help with your breakup. We watched him and... it was hard. It was really hard. He didn't take it well in the beginning and had only just started to get his head back together... He really missed you… Kenny's just worried. He doesn't want Drew to go over there and pull a T.C., ya know?" Krista said, her own voice choked.

Rick chuckled, a humorless sound, "I'm so fucking stupid… I was thinking that he just didn't want to talk to me… he left his phone stateside, didn't he?"

"Yeah, but I can give you his contact info for the base. I'm a hundred percent sure he'd want to hear from you," Krista said, a small smile on her face.

"You are?" he asked, and his troubled blue eyes met her warm brown ones.

"Oh yeah. I am," she said encouragingly.

The door to the break room opened, and Mollie stuck her head in, "Krista, the paramedics are pulling up. Topher wants you."

"I'm coming Mollie, thanks," she called, getting up. "Hang tight Rick, I'll be back. I'll get you that email and we can catch up, okay?"

"Yeah…" was all Rick could manage to say. All of a sudden, he felt like he was lost down a rabbit hole, but there was no wonderland waiting for him.

-line-

2:10 AM, Bagram Air Force Base

"Captain Andrew Alister?" Major Syd Jennings called, walking up to her new doctor. He was caked in dirt and blood and smelled like smoke. His new desert fatigues were now stained and torn. He hadn't been in country for a full week and he was already elbow deep in the action.

"Ma'am," he called looking up at the new comer but not moving from where he crouched. "I'd salute but the Corporal's femoral got nicked on the ride in."

Syd nodded and studied the scene before her. The new doctor was working on a wounded soldier, one of the many in the convoy that was transferring him, several others, and supplies from where they landed to Bagram. A roadside bomb set by the Taliban who were attempting to steal the medical supplies had hit the convoy of five humvees. Early reports had placed the casualties at ten, with four being critical. Her first introduction to her new Captain had been over the radio with him giving her patient updates. She had been pleasantly surprised with the thoroughness of his reports and the calmness in his demeanor. Then again, this wasn't his first rodeo and she was impressed with just how quickly he'd gotten back on the horse.

"I thought you said the leg was stable? What happened?" she asked, getting down next to him, and jumping into help. The young man was busy digging through the wound in an attempt to locate the bleeder. The young medic that was helping him was focused on holding down the Corporal who was crying out in pain. Looking at the wound that the shrapnel caused, Syd didn't blame him.

"We took more fire coming in. Our driver got us here but everybody got jostled. Jim-Jo there," Drew nodded his head to the medic, "did a hell of a job trying to bandage the wound and secure the impaled piece but we got bounced around and blood started leaking around it. His pressure dropped and I had to take it out."

"Shit," Syd hissed, knowing the damage that would have done. She had taken over holding apart the laceration so that Drew could use both his hands to work.

"Yeah, that was my thought too," came back the quick reply as the younger doctor secured a clamp in place. "Alright, got it. We got an OR room waiting?"

"Absolutely. Care to assist?" she said, signaling for the hospital's medics to come get their patient.

"Sounds like fun," he panted, and pulled off his helmet. "Can I wash up first?"

"Please, you look like a smoke stack," she said as they both climbed to their feet. "Major Syd Jennings, by the way, welcome to my hospital," she extended her gloved hand that the other took.

"Captain _Drew_ Alister, and thank you Major. It looks like a shit hole," he said with a tired smile.

Syd laughed and shook her head. She had a feeling she was going to like this new doctor.

-line-

9:00 PM, San Antonio

Rick was still at the hospital and he had no idea why. It had been four hours and the ER had become busier. Nothing major, just a "typical night", Krista had said as she and he had their sporadic catch up conversation. He'd also gotten to talk to Topher, T.C., Jordan, and several others who he'd come to know through Drew. It was nice in some way, knowing that they missed him and cared, but it did little to help his current mood.

"How could you be so stupid?" he whispered to himself sighing deeply and letting his head fall on his arms. Krista had just been pulled away again for a patient, leaving him alone in the break room. Their latest round of catch up had revealed how reckless Drew had become in that month following his leaving. The sleeping around, the nights at the bars, fights at different MMA gyms… ones that were more violent or dangerous because they didn't follow the rules as closely as Drew's typical gym. Things that could have been post breakup 'venting', or, as Rick feared, was an indication of the start of another PTSD spiral. Major changes in Drew's life, especially negative ones, tended to do that.

Rick had asked Krista if Drew had mentioned nightmares or if he'd been jumpy. If he had been making any negative jokes about or had been critical of himself. Tried to find out if Drew had stopped going to the support group, or his counseling sessions. Krista hadn't been able to give him a definitive answer. She said he was edgy, but that was it before she had gotten pulled away again. Edgy could have meant anything; Drew was edgy before a fight, he was edgy after talking to his mother… it could have been anything. What Rick was worried about was if edgy meant he was more hypersensitive, if he was too alert to sleep, if his senses were triggering memories… what Rick was worried about was the slide from edgy to PTSD to depression to suicidal… because Drew had gone down that path before.

The door to the break room opened and Rick looked up, startled. His surprise turned to an awkward tension when he saw Kenny standing there. The charge nurse looked equally as surprised and tense as he stood there for a long minute meeting Rick's gaze. Eventually, he sighed and let his shoulders slump. "It's my break man, I'm just here for some coffee," he mumbled as he made his way to the pot.

"It's your break room, I'm sorta intruding…" Rick offered in return. His voice was tired, almost small. He and Kenny had been becoming good friends while he recovered, and now it seemed like Kenny hated him. Rick didn't resent him for it though, in fact, he admired his loyalty to Drew.

Kenny scuffed, "Yeah… why are you still here? Thought you woulda left by now."

"Krista and were catching up..." he sighed fiddling with the empty mug in his hand.

Kenny, who had finished pouring his own mug looked at the man sitting at the table. He looked so lost. He had _hated_ him for leaving Drew, and also for just walking away from all the people at San Antonio. He had been welcomed into their lives, counted as a part of their extended family, and you don't just walk away from family. Then there was all that Drew had gone through. After watching everything his brother suffered over the last three months, knowing and understanding the pain of having your heart torn apart…

Drew had done so much for Rick. He'd come out of the closet and almost lost his job because of some bigot on the board. He'd had patients spit on him and refuse to let him touch them. He'd rearranged his life so that he could take care of Rick. He'd slept in Rick's hospital room the days following his surgery. He'd been willing to commit a felony to see that Rick was treated… it seemed like all he had done was sacrifice for Rick and he didn't deserve to be casted aside. But looking at Rick, Kenny got the feeling he was missing a part of the story.

Walking over, coffee pot in hand, Kenny refilled the mug that the other was spinning then sat across from him. Rick watched him, confused and curious. Kenny let him wonder for a little longer as he took a long drink of coffee. "I hated you," he finally said, setting his mug down, "at least I tried to hate you. All I saw was what Drew had done for you, and then what you leaving had done to him. I'm guessing though that there was a fair amount of heartache on your part too."

Rick gave a humorless laugh and looked intently at the coffee in his mug. "I hated myself… I had been so independent and so capable… I was a Ranger and a Captain who lead a unit of men. Army for life... and then I wasn't. I was suddenly in pain all the time, weak, and unable to even do simple things without help… it made me frustrated, which made me angry, which made me one hell of a jerk. I was lashing out at everything, but mostly at Drew. He was trying to help and I needed to be angry at someone and so I was angry at him."

"So you left because you were mad at him?" Kenny asked, brow frowned.

"No, I left because I was hurting him. And I was hurting him because I was messed up. I needed to figure out who I was again and I couldn't do that with him there. I also… I could see what I was doing to him. I could see that I was hurting him. I felt like the world's most useless human being and that feeling only got worse when we would fight or he'd get upset, or I would do something I knew was stupid to try and make a point… he was always worried, always tense and trying so damn hard to hide it from me. He was doing everything he could to help and I was just taking everything out on him…" Rick sighed, bowing his head. "I left because I was the problem. I thought he deserved better; that he wanted someone better but was too much of a nice guy to leave the cripple. I left before he could leave me because I don't think I could have taken that… knowing I drove him away... I thought I was doing the best thing for us…"

Kenny shook his head, "man… you two are the poster boys of miscommunication. Drew was convinced that he had driven you away. That he had tried too hard to take care of you. Or that he wasn't enough."

"Yeah… Krista told me," Rick said. "She told me he wasn't doing so well… and about the… well everything, I think."

"Oh… She did, did she?" Kenny sighed shaking his head. Sometimes he didn't now if he wanted to hug that girl or hit her. She meant well, but she didn't always think things through. There was no going back now though; the can of worms had been open.

"Yeah… Kenny, did he… was he slipping?" Rick asked, because if anyone would know it would be Kenny.

"Yeah. He was, a little."

Was he having flashbacks?"

"Sort of. For a little while. And he was having borderline suicidal thoughts at one point, I think. He didn't actually own up to it, just kinda… He'd call somebody so he wouldn't be alone. Ya know? I don't think it was all because of you leaving. He'd been walking on a tightrope before then, a lot of things were weighing on him. There was something really personal, he wouldn't talk about it, but you looked at him and you knew something was killing him slowly and that started before you left, like way before. I think it all just mixed with everything; work, stress, PTSD, whatever was bothering him, you... It just all combined and started building…" Kenny answered and he watched Rick closely. The play of emotions on the other's face was all too telling. Krista had told him earlier that Rick wanted to make things right and now Kenny believed her.

"I should never… All I wanted was to give him an out, a chance to move on. I just never…"

"Never thought he didn't want to?" Kenny finished.

"Yeah… the whole time I was in Montana and I couldn't get him out of my mind. I tried… my dad was the one who told me I was being stupid. We're in the middle of the woods, he hasn't even fully dealt with the fact that I'm gay, and he tells me that he wanted me to get back on a plane and head to Texas as soon as I could because clearly I belonged with Drew…." Rick said softly.

Kenny chuckled, "You're dad's a smart man."

"Yeah…" he said and the two fell into an easy silence for a long moment each drinking their coffee and with their own thoughts.

"Rick… there's something you need to know. It's why I got so upset earlier," Kenny said, voice choked.

"Krista said that it had something to do with Drew just getting to base. You just heard from him today, right?" Rick asked, not liking the look in Kenny's eyes.

"Nah… not that… I mean; it didn't help. It's something else, but before I do, I need to know… you being back, that's real, right? You're going to stay here, you're going to wait for him?" Kenny asked with eyes locked on the other man's.

"Yes. I don't care how long it takes… I tried to live without him and I couldn't. If he wants me back, than I'm staying," Rick said sincerely and firmly.

"Then you need to know this," Kenny said and he took a shuddering breath, "Drew's based out of the hospital on Bagram, like he told everybody. But he's not… He's in a combat unit… He didn't tell anyone but me. He didn't want to worry them…."

"That sounds like him," Rick said and he buried his face in hands. "A combat unit? But he's a doctor…"

"That's what I said. Apparently the Army's sending doctors out to do recovery missions now, and Drew's experience here made him the perfect fir over there," Kenny said. "See… that's why… it's why I was such a dick to you. I just… you came back, and that's all he wanted was to see you again… but he's over there and I don't know if he's coming back."

"Yeah… trust me. I get it," Rick said.

"If you're gonna message him… I don't know what it'll do to him really. I mean, he wasn't in the greatest mindset when he went over so I don't know how he'll react."

"More than likely like a defensive asshole… which I more than deserve," Rick said with a tired half smile.

Kenny smiled as well, a small but real one, "Yeah… hey, you do have his contact information for the base, right?"

"Yeah, Krista gave it to me. That's actually what I was going to get started on… figuring out how to say I'm a complete idiot and I never should have left over email isn't as easy as it is in person, which isn't even easy," Rick sighed.

Kenny shook his head, "Ya know for a Ranger, you're kind of dumb…" He laughed at the confused look Rick gave him. "You know all that stuff you just told me? Tell him. I mean, you convinced me not to hate you, and he's still kind of on your side so…."

Rick laughed. This night may not have gone how he expected but there was still hope.

-line-

7:00 AM. Bagram Air Force Base

The chaos of the early morning arrival had died down. Most of the wounded were out of surgery or settled in monitoring rooms. One of the wounded hadn't made it, and that had left a heaviness in the air. It was never easy to lose a patient, but amplify that by hundreds for a soldier, especially when you had been sitting in the Humvee behind the kid. Drew sighed and took a long sip of his coffee, the numbing exhaustion he felt making it possible to ignore the taste. He hadn't slept, not really, since the order came a month ago that he was going back. Not his unit, just him. They needed doctors, but not just any kind. They needed battlefield docs. He may have been stationed at Bagram, but his real assignment was combat rescue. He was the doctor that they were going to drop in the hot zone to drag the wounded out. It was one hell of an assignment and it came at one hell of a time in his life.

His mind was already a mess; Rick leaving had set him reeling into a near self-destructive cycle. If it hadn't been for Topher, Kenny, and Krista noticing and intervening… he didn't want to think about where he might have ended up. They had gotten through to him, and been there for him when he needed it. With their help, he had started to get through, started the process of moving on. It was slow going, and he wasn't exactly ready to let go or 'get out there' as Mollie told him to do. It was just getting to the point where he was comfortable sleeping in his bed alone again and not on the couch when the notice had come. He didn't know exactly what he was feeling or thinking, but here he was. In the middle of a war zone, cut off from his support system, with a new unit, and nobody truly waiting on him to come home. What could possibly go wrong?

"Hell of a first day Captain. I know first impressions are important, but you didn't have to get blown up to impress me," the Major's voice cut through his tired thoughts as she sat down across from him, tray in hand. He sat up straight, shaking off the exhaustion and putting his head back into the game.

"Well, my Drill Sergeant always said I had a flair for the dramatic," he replied, smiling. He already liked the Major, she was tough and no nonsense, Army through and through, but she was also kind and gentle with her patients. He could already tell that she genuinely cared for them and more importantly; she knew what was best for them. Drew respected that.

"Oh great, here I thought I was getting a doctor, turns out I've just got another cowboy," she mockingly scuffed then took a hard look at the young man. "You've eaten?" she asked, the mom in her coming out.

Drew gave her a half smile and shook his head; "I tried. The food's always the hardest part for me to get use to."

"Tell me about it. I'm still not use to it," she laughed. As if to reinforce her statement, she grimaced when she took a bite of eggs.

"That was good work in the OR. The way you handled the bone grafting was better than a specialist," Drew commented after a brief silence.

Syd gave him a side smile and chuckled, "I am a specialist. Traumatic Orthopedics. Kinda useful out here, no?"

Drew laughed and nodded his head, "I can see how that particular specialty would be slightly useful."

"You weren't so bad either. Did a hell of a job keeping up. ER doc, right?"

Drew nodded, "You got me. Night shift at a Texas trauma center."

"I saw in your file you did a few tours in Iraq as regular Army," Syd continued.

Drew nodded again. "Yes ma'am. Started as a medic, got noticed by someone who put my name forth for career training. Pushed me to be a doctor. Transferred to the reserves and went to med school. Finished that, got a residency at San Antonio Memorial. Now I'm here." He took another sip, waiting for the rest of the interview. It was the same no matter where you went in the Army, the old guys wanted to know what the new guy was like. Drew didn't blame them; he wanted to know who his back up was too.

"San Antonio Memorial? No kidding, that's out in my neck of the woods. Fancy that," she said with a smile, "you really are a cowboy."

Drew laughed, "Hey, I wasn't born in Texas, I just ended up there."

"Oh come on now, you know as well as I do, once you settle in Texas you're from there. You don't leave," Syd teased.

"Unless the Army tells you to," he responded easily.

"Yeah... there is that," she laughed. "Go ahead and get some rest Captain. You look like you could use it. Set your alarm though, I need you to report to my office at 1100. We've got to go over the formalities."

"Yes Ma'am," Drew said tiredly. He stood up and headed off to his quarters only slightly bothered by how quickly he was settling back into this.


	2. Chapter 2

2 Weeks Later, 9:00 PM. Bagram Air Force Base

He had read the email several dozen times. Hell, he had it memorized now, but he still wasn't sure if it was real or some weird stress induced hallucination. With his level of exhaustion and the constant whirlwind he had been in since getting here, this moment could very well be a dream. He was almost afraid to find out.

Since arriving, he had hit the ground running trying to get his team in gear. He had four men under his command for the rescue team. His second was a lieutenant and a nurse nicknamed "Ugh", for reasons as of yet unknown. This was his third tour, like Drew, and the two seemed to have developed an easy rapport already. Next was Jim-Jo, a Specialist and medic who was seasoned enough that Drew didn't have to watch him. Private First Class Marsh was their "muscle" and a little green compared to the others, this being his second tour, but he was so far proving to be solid. Last but not least was their assigned pilot and driver, Sergeant Garrison, or Garry as he preferred. He was the most level headed hot shot that Drew had ever met and reminded him a lot of T.C. with out the self-destructive tendencies.

He had originally been granted a week to prep his team and transition into their role as a rescue unit, but the realities of the war had cut that time almost in half. Three days into training, they completed their first rescue mission. A patrol had been ambushed and they had two critical soldiers that the team was responsible for stabilizing and transporting. They did just that, and both soldiers were currently critical but stable in Bagram's ICU. The Major had deemed it a success; Drew was more reserved in his opinion. When they were stable enough to transfer stateside, that was when it was a success in his mind.

As for the Major, it was ridiculous how close they had become in just the past two weeks. Then again, given the extra duties he'd been assigned when he arrived it was necessary. Bagram was short staffed and Syd was in desperate need of a second. Drew was more than qualified for the job and considering his experience at SAM, it was just like a regular night. So, when Drew wasn't training with his team, on a rescue mission, or on rounds, he was Syd's second. Syd had joked that saying no was an option and down time was a good thing, but for Drew it wasn't. Not really.

This was the first time he was deployed and didn't have anyone waiting for him. Sure, his night shift family were stateside and cheering him on, so to speak, but they weren't what he was missing. Before he had left, he'd called his mother to let her know and gotten her voicemail with no return call. His sister had been upset, but the two of them had drifted apart since he came out and were living such separate lives nowadays that he doubted she really _missed_ him. And with Rick gone… Drew had come over feeling scared and alone, afraid no one would remember him if he didn't make it home. He didn't want to think about that or stew in it for the next ten months so he didn't mind working. He didn't mind keeping so busy that this had been the first night he was able to check his email. And boy did he have one hell of a surprise waiting for him there.

 _Let me start by saying I was and am a fucking idiot…_

Drew read the first line yet again, but he spaced out on the rest. The damn thing was almost too much to believe. It was everything he wanted, and begged God for. It was, as cheesy as it sounded, everything his broken heart had dreamed of. It made him so angry…. Why now? Why was this happening now? He had finally started to find his way out of the misery. He had finally started to learn to breath again. Why did this have to come back and smack him in the chest?

The light to the day room clicked on, making him jump. He spun in his chair and looked towards the door to see Syd standing there, amused. "Easy soldier, I am no Taliban," she joked.

Drew let out a puff of air, a weak attempt at laughing. "Sorry. Was thinking… did you need something, Ma'am?"

"Don't you _ma'am_ me. I am off duty. I do not want to hear the words doctor, ma'am, or major for the next eight hours…" Syd paused, cocked her head to the side in thought for a moment then sighed. "But now that I said that, I probably will,"

He managed a real laugh this time, "yeah. You most definitely will."

Syd shook her head and heaved another sigh before stepping into the room and taking a seat. "So, what has you sitting here in the dark thinking so hard, Drew?"

It was Drew's turn to sigh and he glanced over at the computer screen where Rick's email was still up. "It's just… domestic stuff," he offered weakly. He may have liked the Major, but talking about his personal life wasn't something he did easily, especially since being out was still so new to him.

"Domestic, huh? I am the queen of domestic trouble. Do you know that my wonderful ex is getting married to his plastic surgery addicted girlfriend? Riley just told me. She's thrilled because there's going to be a wedding…." Syd grumbled.

"She, uh, likes her dad's girlfriend?" Drew asked, amused at Syd's annoyance.

"Not really. She's more excited about the fairytale… princesses and balls and dresses…" Syd rolled her eyes and then glared at a laughing Drew. "Hey, she's twelve. She doesn't have a clue about love and marriage yet and I'm very happy to keep it that way." Drew held up his hands in a pacifying gesture, but he was still laughing. Syd narrowed her eyes and tossed a pillow at his face. He only laughed harder as he easily caught it.

"You know, Captain Overachiever, you're gonna learn one day… everybody talks about how great married life is… they don't warn you that once the honeymoon is over and the rose tinted glasses are off your dream man can become, well, really just an ass. Can't kiss a frog and make him a prince," she sighed then leveled her gaze at him. "So, you got my domestic issue, what's yours?"

Drew dropped his head, rubbing his hands over his face and head. The look Syd was giving him meant there was no getting out of the conversation, not without giving her something. "I had a boyfriend back home," he said, testing her. This was the Army, and just because don't ask don't tell was repealed didn't mean those who served had changed their opinions. Glancing up at Syd, Drew was relieved to see she didn't seem to care.

"Had a boyfriend? Let me guess, a Dear John email?" She asked, sounding sympathetic.

Drew shook his head. "No. No, he would have never done that… Rick's a Ranger Captain… former Ranger. He… uh… he's out now."

"Ranger, huh? That's one way to get your tab," Syd teased and Drew had to look at his hands to hide a blush. "So what happened?"

"It's a long story…" he sighed.

"I got eight hours," she shot back, and then added, "You don't have to tell me. I get that we're just getting to know each other but, well, I'm a mom. I see a kid, and yeah, you are a kid, sitting alone in a dark room looking like a lost puppy… I'm gonna at least offer to listen. Just because we're Army doesn't mean we're not human."

Drew was silent for a long moment considering her words. God, he really wanted to talk about this. He really _needed_ to talk about this. Normally he would have sought out Krista or Jordan or Mollie to go over what was in his head but they were all a million miles away… He barely knew Syd and she was his commanding officer… but all the things in his head, he couldn't keep them there. He couldn't let them cloud his judgment, not here.

Drew took a deep breath and then said, "Rick and I met in basic and became friends."

Syd laughed, "I bet. Did you two know, like right away? That you were both…"

"Gay? No. I didn't at least… Rick figured it out first. He's always been more comfortable… But yeah… It took awhile. We were friends way before we even considered anything else; I mean we both had boyfriends on the outside. Neither one stayed past our first deployments, but he and I stayed close. My first deployment was longer than his, and he met me at the airport when I got back," Drew smiled at the memory let it play back through his head a second before continuing. "Anyways, we just kind of understood each other. Had the same kind of experiences, similar deployments, same..."

"Trauma?" Syd finished, more sober.

Drew nodded, "It was easier to deal with together. And we just went from there. We were together through his Ranger school, my medical school, our deployments…. A long time."

"A lifetime, right?" She said softly, understanding.

"I thought we could last through anything. I thought we would…" Drew took a deep breath and forced it out, trying not to let the tears in his eyes fall. He kind of hated that it was so easy talking to Syd about this, but here he was.

"So, what changed?" She asked after a moment of silence.

"He was on the bus home from his fourth tour. I just had to get through my damn shift and I was going to get to see him… and then there was a bus accident." Drew answered and this time he couldn't stop the tears. Syd didn't care.

"The one outside of Fort Sam? I heard about that. That was horrible," she said.

"No. What was horrible was having him show up at my ER with his leg crushed. _That_ was horrible," Drew stated, his voice harsh.

"Shit..." Syd sympathized.

"Yeah. My friend, T.C… also a former Ranger and a doc… "

"Another Ranger? You have a type, don't you?" Syd teased.

Drew blushed and chocked back a laughed, "No… no… not even… not T.C." then growing more serious, he continued, "he, umm, he tried to save Rick's leg but couldn't. So yeah… after that, everything sort of just fell apart. I mean, I tried to be there for him. I tried to help. I tried to make it better and apparently I just made it worse. About four months ago he decided to leave. And we broke up…"

Syd's understanding and empathy showed on her face, "that's harsh. That's… that's just harsh. But if this was four months ago, why are you sitting here in the dark now?"

Drew gestures to the email with one hand while wiping his face with the other. "Cause today I got this," he whispered, "and now I don't know what to think."

Syd stood and moved to stand behind the man quickly becoming her friend. She took a few minutes to read the email that Drew's ex had sent, and was suddenly very aware of the problem. "Wow… that's certainly the opposite of a 'Dear John'," she said sinking back down in her seat.

"Yeah… so there's that… that's my domestic issue," Drew managed to choke out, getting himself back under control.

Syd studied him for a long hard moment, taking in the very clear heartache and the very clear hope. "You know," she said, choosing her words as carefully as she could, "I'm not the best one to give advice on relationships but that is one hell of an apology. That's not a man who's playing games Captain, that's a man who's swallowing his pride and groveling."

"I just… I…." Drew started.

"You just found your balance again and now you've been blindsided. I know that feeling," Syd sighed, "if I were you I would completely ignore the words that are about to come out of my mouth. I am a divorced and salty single mother whose ex is marrying a Barbie knock-off so my advice is worthless."

"But you're gonna give it anyway," Drew laughed-sobbed.

"I'm gonna give it anyway," she confirmed with a smirk, "he loves you and from what I can see you still love him or you wouldn't be sitting in the dark like this. You both had it rough. Life did a number on you and he needed to step away. He told you he thought he was doing you a favor, and you know that post deployment logic, how we all think."

Drew nodded, understanding what she was saying. It was the idea that the people you loved had done without you for so long they didn't need you anymore and wouldn't miss you if you were gone. It was also the dark thoughts, the ones that had you believing you didn't deserve all that you had. The feeling of loss and confusion at not having orders to follow; the whole Army hangover syndrome it messed with your head. Rick had the added trauma of losing his leg and being forced out.

"He's asking for a second chance. It's a hell of a bad time, but as you've said, you two have handled deployments before. You don't get too many take backs in the world… a second chance is a miracle. Drew, what I know of you and the work I've already seen from you… _you_ deserve a second chance," Syd finished.

Drew blew out another puff of air and bowed his head again. Was she right? Is that what this was? Could it really be so simple? He wasn't sure. There was so much between them; he was still hurt. Could he just forget about it all?

"Ya know, sending an email won't hurt," Syd said as she stood and stretched. "Don't be pig headed or you could blow it for yourself." Looking at the clock, she winced and added, "I'm going to shower and sleep."

"That sounds like a good plan," Drew mumbled but he was staring at the email on the screen.

"Yeah, you should consider it yourself. 'Night Captain," Syd called as she left.

Drew barely noticed her leaving. He had a million and one thoughts running in his mind. A million mixed emotions… but all of them were leading back to one thing. He wanted this. Taking a deep breath and ignoring the fact that his hands were shaking, Drew started typing.

-line-

1:45 PM, San Antonio

He didn't know exactly what to think or how he felt now days. Life was moving so fast and standing still all at the same time. He was trying to look for a place to lease so he could get off his buddy's couch. He bought a car and had even signed up for classes at the community college. He was trying to get his life back on track and moving forward. The part that still had him stuck was waiting to hear from Drew.

He felt like he was holding his breath waiting for a reply and it was making him slightly crazy. The first few days after he sent the email he had compulsively checked for a reply almost every hour. It had gotten so bad he had to force himself not to check more than twice a day. The rational part of his mind realized that the delay in reply probably had more to do with Drew being busy and settling in and less to do with him ignoring him. However, the fear was there. What if the other had decided he was no good? What if he was no longer interested? What if he wasn't ready to forgive him? It's not like Rick could blame him. Then there were the irrational 'what ifs'; what if he was wounded? What if he was KIA? What if he just didn't know how to tell Rick to fuck off? After all, being overseas and trying to repair a relationship that he hadn't broken was not exactly a priority in his life. These were the things that were always running through his mind whenever he didn't have a reply, and each day it just got worse. Waiting was hard.

Glancing at the clock, Rick tensed. It was almost time for his self-schedule email check, the second and last one of the day. He wasn't expecting anything, two weeks had taught him not to get his hopes up, but damn he didn't think he could take any more radio silence. Logging on to his email, he shut his eyes, unwilling to watch the screen load the knot in his stomach was tight enough without the impatiens he felt watching the blank screen. When he heard the chime indicating that the account had loaded, he took a deep breath and opened his eyes feeling slightly ridiculous about being so nervous.

Looking at the screen, his heart stopped completely for a moment and he stared in wide-eyed surprise at the fifth message in his inbox. He couldn't believe it was there, and he felt the knot in his stomach loosen only to be replaced with 'butterflies'. It was stupid, but now after so much waiting, he was nervous about opening the damn reply. He'd never admit it, but his hand was shaking when he clicked on the message.

 _Sorry, I just got settled in at Bagram and had to hit the ground running. You've kind of blindsided me, I'm not exactly sure what to say._

 _There's a lot to work through and a lot to talk about. I'm not sure doing this while I'm on the other side of the planet is going to be the best idea. I'm here for at least 10 months. I don't know if you'd want to wait that long for me. I'm not sure exactly where I'm at right now, but I don't want to give up on us. I kind of don't know what to do from here, and I mean Afghanistan not whatever. I don't even know if I'm making sense, haven't slept yet today. But I do miss you._

 _Anyways, I've got 10 months and if you want to wait then I want to try._

 _Drew._

Rick swallowed back the lump that had settled in his throat, feeling a sense if relief flowing over him. Drew didn't hate him. He may have been hurt still, a little lost, but he didn't hate him. He even wanted to try. What was ten months compared to a second chance? Hell, if it meant earning back Drew's trust and rebuilding their relationship, ten months was easy. He had meant what he said in the email. He knew what he wanted now and it just sucked that he had such shitty timing. He was fine with waiting, he'd do it no problem, simply because Drew was worth it.

 _Ten months isn't that long. Take any time you need. I'll wait. Just don't go radio silent on me._

Rick typed out the reply without hesitation, sending it. Taking a deep breath, he said a prayer of thanks.

-line-

When Rick pulled up to the restaurant, he was still smiling. Drew had been online when he sent his reply and his response had been almost instant.

 _Don't tell me, tell the Army. They're the ones who wanna make me work._

From there, there had been a twenty-minute IM conversation. While there was nothing earth shattering talked about, the familiar banter and relaxed tone was there. He'd forgotten how much he had missed it, the ease of talking to someone, of not worrying about impressing them. It was nice.

T.C. and Topher were waiting for him outside. The two had offered to buy him breakfast… or their version of breakfast, he'd call it dinner... so they could catch up. Walking up to them, Rick couldn't keep the smile from showing and it did not go unnoticed by the two former Rangers. "I don't know Tee, what do you think?" Topher said when Rick had reached them, "Delirious or high?"

Rick gave the other a confused look at the question but T.C. just shrugged. "Too responsive to be high. Maybe he's got a fever? An infection?" he came back to Topher.

"What are you two talking about?" Rick asked, making them laugh.

"That stupid look on your face. Nobody looks that happy in this heat, ever," Topher answered making Rick laugh. "So, spill it, what's the good news?"

Rick shrugged, "it's nothing really… I mean…" and here he started to blush a little

"I think I figured it out Toph, I know what's wrong with our boy," T.C. said with a laugh. "He's definitely sick, but don't worry you and I already have it."

"What… ohhh, hey!" Topher said, catching up with the conclusion that T.C. had made, "you talked to Drew? He replied to you?"

"Yes, I heard back from him, and he's doing fine," Rick confirmed now full out blushing. He looked away from the other men who laughed. T.C. slapped him on the back and pushed him to the doors.

"Come on Romeo, you can tell us what's the latest from the desert over a beer," he said as they made their way in.


	3. Chapter 3

2 Months Later. 4:30 AM, Afghanistan.

A unit was skirting the perimeter of a nearby village as part of a normal keep the peace patrol. It was usually a quiet and safe detail, the village being relatively friendly and having a low population. Tonight, however, they had been ambushed. They were pinned down at an abandoned farm on the edge of the village and had been for the better part of an hour. The commander on scene had sent a message advising that he had two injured, one of them was their medic. Drew's team had been mobilized and in less than thirty minutes they were in the air. Gary had gotten them as close as he could without risking getting shot down to the farm house. He was hanging back now, waiting for Drew to call for evac. The rest of them, Ugh, Jim-Jo, and Marsh, had managed to reach where the bulk of the unit was pinned.

"You the med team?" The Lieutenant asked between fire exchanges.

"We're them. What's the story?" Drew called, taking cover nearby.

"Ambush. We've gotten most of it under control but two of my guys are pinned thirty yards down, by what used to be a stable." The young officer nodded his head towards the burning structure where Drew could just make out two forms. "Jax was taking a piss near there when we got an RPG hit. Luckily they over shot, but we still got rattled. Jax got blown back and didn't respond. Vinny went to get him and caught fire. He's still conscious and says he's fine but he always says that."

"Got that Lieutenant. Don't worry, we'll get your guys," Drew said then turned to his team. "Ugh, you're with me, we're gonna assume patient one has blast injures. Jim-Jo-"

"I got the medic?" The specialist said, catching on.

Drew nodded, "You got it. Marsh, stick with Jim."

"Yes sir," the young soldier replied.

Drew looked back at the Lieutenant, "have your guys lay down cover."

The young man nodded and called to his men while Drew's team got in position. "On my signal Doc, stay low," the Lieutenant said and Drew nodded, taking a deep breath. He gave a nod and braced himself, forcing his mind to be calm before running out into the thick of the chaos.

There was a staggered volley, fired towards the enemy, then the word "go" was shouted and the team was moving. It was a mad dash in slow motion, the four men sprinting in crouched positions as the other unit fired cover volleys. They reached the medic first he was behind the relative cover of some kind of trough. Jim-Jo dropped down next to him, taking charge with Marsh setting up a defensive position from where he could protect them all. Drew spared the medic a glance, noting at least two wounds that were bleeding steadily but not serious. He was alert enough to talk so Drew didn't bother with a second look.

Ugh and he reached Jax moments later, hitting the dirt as several shots came their way. There was a return volley and then nothing for a long moment giving Drew a chance to look at his patient. He was a young, about twenty, and unconscious. He had blood smeared down his face and in the weak light it was hard to make out where it was coming from.

"He don't look good Doc," Ugh said, already pulling out the equipment for vitals.

"Nope. If he's got blast syndrome, and I'm pretty sure he does, we need to get him out of here," Drew confirmed as he began a rapid assessment. "C-collar, I can't clear his c-spine. And we're going to need to package his chest, it's a noted deformity."

"Got ya Doc. Vitals are-" before Ugh could finish there was another round of fire that had them ducking and covering.

"Damn it," Drew hissed, shielding his patient. There were several volleys from their side and once again, the night went still. "Ugh, vitals."

"Heart rate seventy. BP 190 over 100. Diminished lung sounds. You know the rest," he said as he started pulling out the c-collar and some bandages for Drew.

Drew looked over to Jim-Jo and Marsh who seemed to be wrapping up with their own patient. "Jim-Jo, what you got?" He called.

"A dumbass with three holes, one looks like an exit. Vitals suck but they're stable. He's gonna make it," came the gruff reply.

"He's gonna kick your ass," Vinny, the injured man, coughed out.

"Yeah, well, you get yourself shot you get the dumbass award. Right Doc?" Jim-Jo said as he finished bandaging his patient.

"You also get tampons shoved into your body," Marsh added.

"Not helping Marsh," Ugh called. "Doc, he's ready to move. We don't have a backboard though."

"Yeah, I know. We don't have a choice," Drew looked over to the others than out into the direction of fire. His brain was working over time thinking of how to move his men and patients to safety. "Alright, here's the plan. Marsh plant yourself, Ugh and I are coming to you and Jim. As soon as we're there, Ugh and Jim, take Vinny to cover. Marsh, when they're in cover we fall back. Everyone understand?"

There was a round of "yes sir", and Marsh moved into position. Drew keyed up on his radio to alert the Lieutenant they were falling back and had them fire another volley. "When the volley ends, we move," he called to the others just before it started. And like the well-oiled machine they were, they were moving. His plan worked better than Drew had hopped and several minutes later they were behind cover. But things weren't all right.

"Doc," Ugh said bringing Drew's attention to Jax, "he's posturing!"

"You need ta get Jax outta here! Get him to a base!" the Lieutenant called, scared. Drew understood, no commander wanted to face losing a man.

"Pressure in his head is building," Drew stated after re-examining the injured man. "He's not gonna make it to base unless we do something now."

"What ya thinking?" Ugh said.

There was another exchange of fire and Drew felt a sickening sense of déjà vu. He had faced almost this exact thing before. At that time, he hadn't known how to fix it, but now he was a doctor… "Get me a drill," he said, voice eerily calm.

"What the fuck are you going to do with a drill?" the Lieutenant asked, confused and his protectiveness making him angry.

"He's going to use it to put a hole in the guy's head so he doesn't die," Ugh said. "Jim, hand me your bag and then you and Marsh hold him still. C spine, got it?"

"Yes sir…" Jim-Jo said, as he and Marsh did as ordered.

"Are you serious?" The Lieutenant asked dumbfounded.

"No choice, Ugh?" Drew said.

"It's ready," and it was clear that the combat nurse wasn't so sure about this either. Jim-Jo and Marsh looked nervous but stayed in position. Ugh moved up to monitor Jax's vitals, such as he could.

"Alright, everybody say a prayer," Drew said as he started to drill...

-line-

10:00 PM, San Antonio

If he had to read one more paragraph, he was going to scream. His eyes were burning; vision blurring, and he swore he had read the same sentence ten times now. Looking at his computer's clock, Rick groaned. All he wanted was to go to bed, but he had a paper due in three days and the damn article was one of the required sources. He remembered now why he had always hated college.

This momentary frustration aside, however, life was pretty good. He was still looking for a place, though Frankie, an Army buddy, didn't mind and constantly assured him he was fine to stay as long as he wanted. But Frankie was a single guy, with an active _nightlife_ and a lot of female _friends_ who stayed over, _a lot_. And they were very active and loud all night. Besides, Rick hated feeling like an imposition and also really just wanted his own space, especially now that he was in school again. It would make studying easier. Though so far he was doing well in his classes. His therapies, physical and mental, were also showing positive effects and he was right where he should be in both areas and only getting better. And Drew…

The two had been emailing and IMing regularly over the past two months, or as regularly as they could. Drew had been avoiding Skype, and Rick wasn't entirely sure why but he could take a guess. Drew was trying to keep himself distanced in someway. He wasn't sure if it was because he doubted Rick would stay or if it was because he was still sticking to the habits he'd learned in the closet. Hell, knowing Drew, it could be that he was trying to help keep Rick from worrying. It didn't matter, the result was the same; messaging was their main source for communication. He'd take it anyway he could though.

However, it was still hit or miss. Sometimes Rick got lucky, and Drew wasn't on an assignment or the base wasn't flooded with wounded. Those were the times that they could exchange email two or three times a day, almost like having a conversation, or better yet IM and actually have a conversation. Most of the time, however, Drew was called away. He'd have to wait days for replies. Those were the times he'd have to remind himself to breathe and ignore the fears lurking in his head.

Their conversations had started out simply enough. Catching up, how was your day, what were your plans; those kinds of things. But as they both become more comfortable with their newfound routine, they started getting to the heavier things. The, 'while you were gone' and 'this still sucks' kind of things. One of the more painful conversations had been about Drew sleeping with other men after the break up. It was unfair and completely selfish, but Rick had felt cheated on. He had been angry and hurt by it and he wanted to know if he had just not been good enough. If his body, such as it was, was too ugly now. Drew's reply had been angry and defensive at first. A short one-line answer, _you walked out._ Then there was radio silence for three days and Rick feared he'd fucked up. He had been ready to grovel again when the follow up came.

 _Just got back to base. I'm sorry for being a shit. Let me explain. I thought I was worthless when you left. I thought I was what was wrong. I started listening to that voice in my head that told me I never should have left Iraq. I needed something to convince myself that I still was worth something. And, nothing was as good as it was with you._

They had managed to work from there. Both of them kind of addressing the issues they had brought up. Drew, his inner demons and Rick, his perception of his body; both those things always seemed to get in the way before. Not anymore, not if they wanted this to work. There was still more to talk about here, more to address, but it was getting better.

Not all of their conversations were so heavy, however, and Rick smiled as he looked at the image he still had up on his screen. Drew had sent it to him the other day; it was him with his 'shit heads'. Rick had asked him about his unit and Drew was trying to give him a visual to go with the stories. He had to say, he appreciated it. The five man team had been caught in their off hours, sitting outside the base, apparently after a water fight. Drew's caption had read "the most intense fight of my tour so far," and they were all smiling and laughing. It was nice to see Drew actually able to relax some over there… and the fact that he was shirtless didn't hurt either.

A chime from his computer speakers alerted him to the IM he'd just received. He smiled seeing the notification for Drew's chat. Clicking on it he read, _still up?_

 _Yeah. Studying._ He replied quickly.

There was a moment's pause, like a hesitation, than _Skype?_

Rick smiled; this was a very welcome distraction. _Yeah. I'm on._

It was a matter of seconds before the call was coming in and he had to admit, he felt butterflies. This was the first time he was going to see Drew in about six months. It was stupid, but it felt exciting. Answering the call, Rick was all smiles despite the fact he had a very tired Drew on the other line.

"Hey," Rick said.

Drew was sort of slumped forward, head resting in his arms, but he had a smile and replied, "hey yourself. You look good…"

"You look exhausted," Rick commented laughing, and, as if on cue, Drew yawned.

"Don't know what you're talking about…" he said, "What time is it there?"

"About 22:10. What about there?"

"Too damn early... and I've been up since way too damn early. God I miss night shift…" Drew sighed and rubbed his face. It was then that Rick noticed it, the shaking in his hands.

He took a long, hard, and closer look at the other man, ignoring the smile and the attempts at conversation. He was pale; the dark circles under his eye made him look sick. He was clearly tired; his voice thick with the exhaustion, but the way his shoulders slumped was caused by something else. He looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on him; something was wrong. "Hey," Rick said, voice soft, "What happened?"

Drew stiffened, straightening up, almost startled. He never liked talking about what was bothering him. He never liked sharing. He would, when pressed to, but it could be a fight. This time, however, it didn't look like it would be. "That obvious, huh?" Drew sighed.

"Yeah," Rick teased, "you're not as good at hiding things as you think."

"Not from you…" Drew trailed off, his eyes unfocusing for a long moment. Rick had seen that look before, not just in Drew but hundreds of vets. He felt his heartbreak slightly knowing that his boy was reliving some trauma but he stayed quite. He was going to let him do it in his own time.

"Got back from a hot zone. A patrol got pinned down and they had two injured. Both of them kids… one had blast injures," Drew said, voice low and he had to swallow.

"Jesus," Rick sighed. He didn't even have to pretend to understand what the doctor was talking about. He had seen it before too. "How bad?"

"I don't know yet. We're not exactly sure how close he was to the explosion but there's a lot of internal damage. He's stable though," Drew said.

"Hey! Well that's something. Even critical, stable's good. Right?" Rick said, reassuringly. Drew only nodded once, eyes down. "So, what aren't you telling me?"

"He had the same head injury as Shay," Drew whispered and Rick felt cold.

Shay has been one of the more vivid nightmares from Drew's first tour. He himself had never met the man, but Drew had a picture of them together in Iraqi. They had been battle brothers, the new guys in the unit together. Shay had also figured out Drew was gay and had protected him, deflecting a lot of the gay jokes that were typical in a unit onto himself to help keep Drew's secret. They two had been close, and Shay had died in Drew's arms.

"Drew… I…." Rick tried to think of something. Tried to say something that could ease the turmoil but words failed in the wake of grief.

"It worked," Drew said sniffing. "It worked exactly the way it should and I got the swelling down enough for him to be transported."

"What worked?" Rick asked, a little confused.

"I drilled into the kid's head. His brain was swelling and he needed the pressure to be released or he was going to start convulsing. He was already posturing… I drilled into his head, in the middle of a firefight. And it worked. He made it to base," Drew explained. "It would've worked for Shay too, I should have-"

"Been a doctor at eighteen?" Rick said, cutting him off.

Drew glared at him, "you don't-"

Again, Rick cut him off. "Your unit didn't have a doctor that day. What they had was an eighteen-year-old kid who was one hell of an Army medic. That kid crawled out into fire to drag another wounded kid into cover and began treating him. They had a medic who did everything he could. But they didn't have a doctor. You're a doctor _now_ Drew, and you know what to do _now_. You knew how to save that kid now because of Shay. Don't you think you did him proud?" Drew was quiet for a long moment and Rick could see the tears the other wanted to shed. "It's not your fault," Rick said softly.

Drew swallowed back a sob with great effort. Rick saw but he didn't comment on it. Drew had never been as open about emotion as he was. Drew's father had always been one of those 'suck it up buttercup' kinds of soldiers. From the few stories Drew told, Rick had gotten the sense the expression of emotions were all but beaten out of him. Rick had been lucky; his father had been more accepting in many ways.

"He still may die," Drew said, voice choked.

"And that wouldn't be your fault either. You got him this far. You gave him a chance. You have done your part. You're not God," Rick replied, and he could see the words getting through to the other, at least somewhat.

"Above all, I must not play at God," Drew mumbled and Rick smiled. He knew those words, that oath, and remembered watching Drew take it.

"You're a good doctor, Drew. You're a good soldier. Don't forget it."

Drew gave him a half smile, "Thanks." He let out another sigh and Rick could sense a conversation change coming. Drew had, had enough emotions for one call. "Are you still staying at Frankie's?" He asked.

"Yeah, right now all the apartments are either overpriced or non existent. So I'm a little stuck," Rick shrugged. "I don't mind it for now. I mean, I want my own place but…"

"You're miserable there," Drew laughed and Rick did too.

"It's not great. It's not like hell or anything, but there's no peace and quiet," Rick admitted.

"I never took you off the lease," came a very shocking statement and it left Rick stunned.

"What?" He asked.

Drew blushed, but cleared his throat and repeated, "You're still on the lease. I never got around to taking you off. And the next few months are paid for."

"Drew," Rick said, smiling but shaking his head, "I couldn't do that to you."

The other shrugged. "Just giving you an option. Krista and Kenny both have a spare key. They were keeping an eye on my place and truck. I mean if you need to get out of Frankie's place… it's just an option."

"Ya know…" Rick chuckled, "the next time one of Frankie's girlfriends tries to convert me, I might take you up on that."

"Oh God… I hate that…" Drew groaned and then laughed. "It's happening here. I've got two nurses trying."

"Two huh? Damn, I need to step up my game, now that I have competition," Rick teased and gave the other a quick wink, "or ya know, I could just try to beat your score."

The two of them had gone through the 'conversion' attempts so many times in their life that when they started dating, it had become almost a game to them. It was one of those shared and familiar experiences they often had to laugh about it or it would drive them crazy. It was sad to think people didn't know you couldn't convert anyone to a sexual orientation, and frustrating when you were the one they were trying to.

Drew shook his head, "Just get out of there. Don't even…"

He trailed off suddenly, face growing serious and looking around him. Rick couldn't hear anything but he suspected that the base was about to get busy. Drew sighed and rolled his eyes, giving Rick an amused and annoyed look. He held up three fingers and began dramatically counting down. A moment after he hit one, an alert sounded that Rick could hear.

Drew shook his head, "gotta go."

"Yeah... sounds like it," Rick said and he tried to keep the worry out of his voice. Apparently, he failed.

Drew gave him a reassuring smile, "just wounded. Going to be a long day. Talk later."

Then the feed was cut. Drew was gone, off to perform whatever duties he was needed for. Rick felt a wave of loneliness wash over him. He wanted so badly to have Drew here with him. Not just so he knew the other was safe, but to be able to hold him, to look at him and talk to him without interruptions or having to be discreet. Hell, he wanted to be able to steal his shirts….

"How the hell had Drew handled this?" He mumbled rubbing his eyes thinking about his previous deployments. He looked at the article he had been reading for class and groaned. He knew there was no way in hell he was going to be able to read this, not now, but he also knew he was going to try anyway.


	4. Chapter 4

3 Months Later. 2:30 PM San Antonio

Rick was turning into a regular gym rat. He'd always been physically fit but he preferred running, hiking, and the great outdoors. The gym was always Drew's preferred work out spot. He liked running and hiking fine, but he liked MMA and the atmosphere of the training ring more, at least when it came to exercise. The great outdoors was where he went to relax. Rick understood it, but he still preferred the quiet of wide-open spaces. Unfortunately, the kind of training he needed required the gym. He was working hard, pushing himself to get back to his pre-amputation level of fitness. Kenny had been helping him the last few months, but now there was a sense of urgency.

He had been given the opportunity to re-enlist in a non-combatant role a couple months back but only if he could pass the physical agility course. He had about three weeks left to prep for that. Walking into the gym, Rick was greeted instantly by Kenny who appeared to be just finishing setting up for him. "Well, look who's bright eye and so early," Kenny called.

"Early? It's 1430," Rick answered walking over.

"Man, I work nights, anything before five pm is early. Five pm is early," Kenny quipped, all smiles. "Someone's in a good mood though," he added.

"Spoke to Drew before coming," Rick answered and looked down, almost blushing.

"Uh-huh... and how is GI Joe?" Kenny asked, tone teasing. Since he and Rick had had their heart to heart in the break room so many months back, they'd made great strides in repairing their friendship. So much so, that Kenny had offered to help Rick prepare for the agility test without being asked.

"He says he's good. He's been keeping busy, even more than normal. Everything's fine right now," Rick shrugged. His smile faded some however, and that didn't go unnoticed.

"What's wrong? You look like you don't believe him," Kenny said, brow frowning.

Rick shrugged, "I don't know. It's probably nothing; he just seemed tired. There's been a lot of need for him lately and his Major is on the count down to get home so he's going to be temporarily in charge of the hospital... I'm just worried."

Kenny nodded, "should I be worried?"

"Nah. He'll be fine," Rick said, "it's just me being concerned."

"You mean overprotective, right?" Kenny joked.

"Hey, just because you're right doesn't mean you're right..." Rick replied.

Kenny laughed. "Man, that made no sense," he said. "Hey, what he say about you training?"

"He was excited. Thought it sounded like a good idea. He was also worried, didn't want me to get hurt. I told him you were my trainer, not sure that helped," Rick answered.

"Nah, that wouldn't have. But hey, you ready? Got the right leg on and everything?" Kenny asked, teasing.

"Yeah, brand new one too. Supposed to help make me faster."

"Then let's go Ranger boy," Kenny said a little too excited, clapping his head together. "I got the course all laid out for you!"

Looking past the other at the equipment set up, Rick groaned. "Ever heard of easing into things? I just got this leg… remember?"

"Oh no, uh-ah, we're running outta time to get you back to pre-leg days. Let's go!"

"Pre-leg days?" Rick asked with an eyebrow raised.

"You know exactly what I mean and that back talk earned you an extra round of burpees.

Rick groaned again, this was gonna hurt.

-line-

1 week later. 7:00 PM, Bagram Air Force Base

The base was quiet. It shouldn't have been, not at this hour. It also seemed like it should have been later in the evening, somewhere around 2200 or even O-dark-thirty. He wanted it to be, he wanted the sky to be black and the world to be asleep. After the chaos of the day, it would have been a much-needed reprieve. No such luck. Not for him. Not today. Despite everything on base seeming still and eerily calm, his mind was left reeling. Recent events replaying in his memory as if they were his punishment for his piss poor leadership. This day was on him, no matter what anyone said, it was all on him.

His unit had been out in a nearby village doing standard community outreach; vaccines, check ups, that sort of things. Everything had been situation normal, and they were finished for the day when a child with a gun walked towards them. Drew placed his age at twelve or thirteen. He had walked straight towards them as they packed up for home. There was no fear, no hesitation; the kid knew exactly what he was supposed to do. Marsh had noticed him first, alerting the others. He'd given the child an order to stop. He gave him several orders to stop… they all did. More than they technically should have. The village was watching them, watching the boy, but none of them moved to intervene. Drew could feel the tension forming around them; he could sense what was going to happen. But there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Everything moved in slow motion. The child raised the gun, Marsh shouted at him to drop it, the village men where all shouting too. Jim-Jo was moving out to flank the kid, weapon ready with Ugh and Drew moving to back Marsh. Marsh fired a warning shot in the dirt. The crowd moved back momentarily, but the child never did. The child kept coming and he pulled the trigger. The shots went wide, he was too untrained and the rifle was too big for him. They hit the Humvee. Gary shouted something from the driver's seat. Drew didn't hear him, or maybe he just couldn't process what was being said, because in that moment he was too fixated on the horror playing out. The child had fired again. Marsh had been left with no choice. He fired three shots, all hitting the child in the chest. Just like he was trained to. The child fell, hitting the dirt. For a moment everyone was too stunned to move, except for Drew.

The world around him disappeared. He lost all sense of place and surroundings, his mind tunneling in on the child lying in the dirt. Drew rushed to him, first securing the rifle to his person, and then turning the child onto his back. The boy was still alive, but Drew knew he didn't have a chance. His chest was drenched in blood and he had bloody foam coming out his mouth. His eyes were dim and unfocused and Drew couldn't find radial pulses. He had no doubt that one of the bullets hit the child's heart. There was nothing that he could do. He still tried to put pressure on the wounds, and when he lost the carotid pulse, he started CPR. But the shock was wearing off for everybody and the village had turned against them.

"Cap!" Ugh called, snapping Drew back to the rest of the scene. Looking up around him he saw the gathering crowd and was finally aware of the angry shouting.

Drew had no choice. The boy was dead, there was nothing he could do, and his men were in danger. He backed away from the body, his weapon down but ready. He knew the others had his back, but his eyes were still trained to the angry crowd that was quickly becoming a mob. Someone shouted venomously at them and threw a rock. It hit Drew in the head and he staggered down to his knees stunned. Ugh was at his side in an instant, weapon aimed down, but still ready, and latched his free hand onto Drew's vest pulling him up. Marsh and Jim-Jo we're moving in closer to them, closing up. Gary had the Humvee running. The crowd was too upset to be deterred.

More objects were thrown. Jim-Jo was struck in the shoulder with a bottle. Marsh took several blows to the torso from rocks. Drew got hit again in the head; he could feel blood this time. Gary blared the horn several times startling the mob, making a few dive for cover and others pause. It gave them enough time to reach their Humvee. They loaded up as quickly as they could and were out of there, the villagers pelting the vehicle as it drove off. Drew had radioed the incident in while Jim-Jo secured Marsh's weapon and checked him over. The kid looked like he was going to vomit or faint, and nobody could blame him. He didn't even acknowledged Jim as the other took off his vest to look at his chest.

"When you're done with Marsh, check your face Jim-Jo. Got some lacerations. Cap, let me look at your head," Ugh said as he leaned over the seat, his voice soft but still too loud in the cabin. Ugh had assumed command the moment Drew was hit in the head.

Drew nodded, trying hard not to look at his hands that were still coated in the child's blood. He didn't flinch as Ugh examined the gash on the side of his head, just answered the usual concussion questions. "You're gonna need some stitches, Cap," Ugh said, sitting back down after putting a pressure bandage on the gash.

Drew nodded; he didn't care about himself though. "Jim-Jo?"

"All good here Doc. Marsh only had bruises. I only got the cut," he said, holding pressure to his chin. Normally the medic would make a joke, try to lighten the mood. Not now though. Not with what happened. He still had a protective hold on Marsh.

Drew nodded, "Ugh, Gary, you both good?"

"Yeah Cap," Ugh said, always one to be straight to the point.

"Fuck this fucking shit," was Gary's response, which meant he was fine.

Looking over to Marsh, Drew took a deep breath and in a soft voice called. "Marsh." It took a moment, but his youngest soldier looked at him, eyes wide. "Marsh, it was a clean shoot," Drew said. He knew exactly what was going on inside the other's head. He had been there too. "I know it doesn't feel right," Drew continued, "but you made the correct call."

"Yes sir…" Marsh had said, voice a whispered.

When they had gotten back to base, the MP's had been waiting. Apparently there was already backlash from the village and the Afghan officials saying it was an unnecessary use of force. Drew and his unit were stood down pending investigation. First they were all given medical checks, including a drug screening. Next came the debriefing and interrogation. Drew had had to meet with both the Major and General to go over the events of the shooting. He knew he was going to have a psych eval coming up. Marsh was getting the worst of it, being the shooter, but the investigation wasn't that bad. The unit's stories were all supportive of each other. Even accounts from the village backed what Drew and his unit were saying, despite the attempt to make them the aggressors. The General had assured him the next forty-eight hours were just a formality and Drew didn't really doubt it. It was a clean shoot; it just really sucked.

"From here on out, you boys aren't doing anymore community details," the Major had said while she stitched him up. She wouldn't let anyone else do it. "I don't give a damn about winning hearts and minds, I'm not risking you. I got less than a month left. You better believe that I'm not gonna let anything mess that up."

She had been teasing, pulling the same mom routine she always did with Drew, but he knew she had been scared. He had been scared. Jim-Jo had had his chin stitched closed. Marsh had some minor bruises but he was scheduled for several psych appointments. But everything could have been so much worse. He was still in a little bit of shock. Hell, they all were. If they had been slower... If Marsh had hesitated... If there had been more weapons or more villagers... they could have very easily died this day.

Drew and his men were on administrative details until their forty-eight hours were up. Even if that hadn't been, the Major would have put them out medical. Drew especially with the ten stitches to close the gash and the bruising spreading all down the left side of face from the rocks. She had been amazed he didn't have a concussion.

He was supposed to be resting but he couldn't sleep. His mind would not let him stop the constant replay of the day's nightmare. He had run through everything so many times, trying to see another solution. The problem was, every time he did he'd always come back to the memory of a dying twelve-year-old boy looking up at him with empty brown eyes and bloody foam from his mouth. He didn't want to see that in his sleep so he was looking for a distraction. It was a relief to see that Rick was online.

The Skype call connected almost right away, Rick's smiling face filling the screen. "Hey there…" Rick paused mid sentence, the smile turning to a frown, "your face."

Drew laughed, but it was a miserable sound, "yeah... I know. It's the newest look over here, all the docs are getting it."

"What happened," Rick pressed with that no nonsense tone he used to give orders in, the one that demanded answers. He was not going to allow Drew to play off that he clearly had a head injury and a black eye. His protective instincts were very much screaming inside his head, and it was worse given that he couldn't be there.

"I can't tell you. The investigation is still open," Drew said. "But I'm alright. It's not as serious as it looks. Just some stitches and the bruises. No concussion. I promise," his voice was quiet, pacifying. Rick wasn't fooled.

"It was something bad, wasn't it?" Rick said, still worried and upset.

Drew was still for a long moment, eyes down casted. He took a deep breath to steady himself, "it's going to be a souvenir."

Rick sighed, upset. Souvenir was their code for the memories that they brought home, a new nightmare to the list of all too many. "And you can't talk about it or won't?" He tried again.

"Believe me, I don't want to keep this... there's an official inquest. It's a formality but…" Drew said, and his voice had that choke in it, the one he got when he was trying not to be emotional.

"Rules," Rick sighed, feeling helpless and frustrated. He just wanted to do something to help, to _be_ able to help. He just didn't know what he could do. Drew was over in Afghanistan beaten all to hell, exhausted, and he was safe and sound in Drew's apartment doing homework. It pissed him off.

"Yeah," Drew said, "I just need to hear… I just need you to talk…"

"Talk? About what?" Rick asked, sighing.

"Anything? I don't care. I just want to hear your voice…" Drew answered, resting his chin on his arms. He would have looked adorable if he weren't so sad.

Rick shook his head, "You call on the one day that there is nothing happening… I'm just working on yet another pointless paper for class. I don't understand why I need to write a paper on how the treatment by police affects the psyche of a criminal. They're the bad guys; just lock them up. If you really wanted to fall asleep, I could read you this article. I mean it's doing a hell of a job making me nod off…"

"I love you," Drew whispered, a small smile on his face and a faraway look in his eyes.

The simple statement made Rick stop in his tracks; he looked at the other, eyes wide. It was like the first time he had heard that statement all over again. Sure he had been the one to ask Drew out, and he had instigated their first kiss, but Drew had said it first. The very first time he had said it, it was after they had celebrated his return from Ranger School and Drew had gotten them a hotel room. He had been stunned then too, his heart speeding up faster than was healthy.

"See, now I know you have a head injury or something…" Rick said, trying to hide the fact he was blushing.

"Probably, but still true," Drew came back and to add insult to injury he said, "you're cute when you blush."

Rick looked down, his blush deepening and he had to bite his lip to keep from laughing. He shifted the computer as he adjusted his position, trying to think of something to say back. But Drew was already ahead of him.

"Are you on my bed?" He asked, and his voice had a hint of jealousy. Rick laughed because he understood exactly what it was for.

"I mean, it is a comfortable bed," he replied, taunting.

"I know… I miss that bed... I really do…" Drew sighed, longingly.

"One of the best parts is that it's memory foam," Rick continued.

"Yeah, Yeah...rub it in ya jerk…"

"The best part though," Rick added, laughing at the glare he received, "the best part is that it smells like you, and that happens to be very reassuring." It was Drew's turn to blush and he looked away, attempting to hide his face. Rick laughed yet again, proud of himself, "Now who's cute when they blush?"

"Don't know what you're talking about," Drew said, clearing his throat. He raised his head back up.

"I love you too Drew. I really do," Rick said, sincerely but still smiling.

"I know," he said and looked down at his hands taking a deep breath and letting it out. "You're really back, aren't you? You're not running away?" He asked.

Rick felt a peg of guilt at the question. It was clear from the tone in Drew's voice this was something the other had been thinking all along. He could hear the relief in the other, but also the fear. He wished, not for the 100th time, that he could have taken back that damn night in the ER.

"What you thinking?" Rick asked, voice soft.

Drew sighed and bowed his head, "When I got deployed... when I got here... I don't think I'd ever been so alone in my life. I didn't… I couldn't think of one person who was going to be waiting for me. Then I got your message and I didn't know what to think. I didn't know if you were just being nice or if I was seeing too much…" he sighed again, this time a harsh sound, and rubbed a hand over his face. He was clearly exhausted and the recent events were catching up to him. "My guys almost died today. I almost died… When I got here, I thought that would be all right. If I died it would be fine because there wasn't… I don't even know if I'm making sense…"

"You are. You didn't think you mattered anymore, right? No one to miss you? So you told yourself you weren't important and part of that was thinking it would be all right if you didn't make it home. I'm guessing you volunteered for your assignment?" Rick replied, his voice even and neutral.

"That was part of it... yeah." Drew confirmed. Head bowed, he took a shuddering breath and wiped at his eyes.

"Drew, you were wrong. You have a lot of people over here that miss you. Krista, Kenny, Jordan, Topher, T.C., Mollie… just to name a few. Hell, your parents miss you too, even if they don't admit it," Rick stated hoping he didn't hit a nerve. Drew and his family was never really a comfortable subject.

Drew shook his head, "They don't miss me… not even Liz. They don't care that I'm here."

Rick felt a familiar frustration return, he and Drew had, had this conversation before. The idea that his family hated him, didn't want him, Rick got it. He understood, and he knew that Drew's father wasn't accepting of Drew's sexuality. But it was so hard for him to accept that they hated him. How could they? How could anyone who knew Drew hate him? Besides, the whole, 'my family hates me' pity party normally came when he was feeling lonely or depressed, just like now. "Drew, we go over this every time you're upset. Liz sends you weekly emails with pictures of the girls; you talk to them regularly. Your mom and dad –"

"He disowned me," Drew snapped, angry. "When I told him you were moving in, he disowned me." Rick was shocked. His jaw dropped, he had known that there was tension, but he never imagined that it would ever go so far. "And Liz doesn't send me pictures anymore because she doesn't know how to 'explain to the girls how their uncle is choosing to live his life.' I haven't even spoken to my mother sense… I mean, besides telling her that I'm deployed. So no… no, they don't miss me."

Rick swallowed back the anger and the rage that suddenly flooded his system. None of it was directed at Drew, none of it was because of him, in fact it was all for Drew. It was that protective side of him, the part that wanted to help and take care of the other man because while everyone else only saw the MMA fighter, doctor, and Army Officer, he had seen the broken parts. He knew the fragile pieces, and how deep the cuts were. "Well, I miss you. I'd give just about anything to have you here now. We all want you home. And when you get home, we're all going to be here. I'm going to be here. And I'm gonna spend every day making things right. And you know why? Because you're worth it. You're worth missing and you're worth waiting for," Rick said solemnly.

Drew nodded, letting his head fall onto his arms. Rick watched him for a moment, watched as the weight of everything broke him down before he gathered himself to carry it again. Because that was what he did, he carried the weight of the world for everyone he could even when he didn't have to. That was when a thought occurred to him, and Rick took a long moment to reexamine those months when he was recovering from the accident. "Drew," he asked, a little hesitant, because this was a very raw time for the other and he didn't want to take advantage of it, but he also needed an answer.

The other sat up, inhaling sharply and shoving aside his own emotions to focus on what Rick needed. It was always a little exasperating to watch, how quickly he would brush his own wants and needs aside, like he didn't care about self-preservation. Rick was trying to change that, had been since they were just friends. Right now though, the focus was beneficial, he needed Drew to keep talking to him. "When I first moved in, right after rehab, you were always taking extra shifts and at the gym a lot longer than normal… was that me, or was that your dad?"

Drew hung his head, and even in the poor light of the screen, Rick could see a few tears. "Both," came the whispered answer, "you weren't the only one who felt helpless… and all I could think was that you blamed me because…. I couldn't fix it and you lost so much," Drew took a shuddering breath and exhaled sharply, rebuilding his composure. "But it was mostly my dad," Drew continued, voice now steady, "It was finally final. No more hope, and between his disappointment and my failure I couldn't –"

"You didn't fail," Rick said, and he was forcing back his own tears, his own emotions. "You didn't do this. It wasn't your fault. God… why didn't you just tell me that you're father… I thought you were avoiding me. I thought you were angry with me, or couldn't look at me. I thought you didn't want me."

"I know. I'm sorry. You were going through so much and I just didn't want you to worry about me. You needed to recover and it wasn't like anything had really changed. I mean, he just finally said it. That was all."

"Or that's what you just told yourself. Damn it Drew," Rick said, exhaling harshly. He was angry. "Why do you so that? Why do you think you can just keep it all in your head and we won't notice? I won't notice? Do you think we don't care? That we don't want to help?"

"No. I know that you would, but I just can't be the cause of somebody's worries," he said, voice soft.

"But I want you to be. I want you to let me in, completely. Tell me when something's wrong. Let me help fix it or at least let me help carry the weight. I told you you're worth that, right? You're not just worth waiting for, you're worth the worry too."

It took a moment; Drew had to let the words sink in. When they finally did he rubbed a hand over his face and had to clear his throat. "You're not the only one of us who has to make things right," he finally came back.

Rick shrugged, letting his emotions settle down, "so we're both screw ups. I mean, what you expect, we joined the Army?"

Drew laughed-sobbed and shook his head. "Yeah... best worst decision ever."

Rick was about to respond when the feed froze. "Drew?" He called now on edge, the light moment lost.

"Still have audio but there's something wrong with the uplink. Keep talking though, until they kick me off," Drew said managing to sound both exasperated and amused.

Rick laughed softly, "Yeah, okay…"

-line-

9:00 AM. San Antonio.

Rick let out a partial growl and sigh, slamming his fists down into the pillows. He loved hearing from Drew. Loved seeing him, even just over Skype. Loved that the other was telling him what was going on, but he hated _this._ He hated this helplessness and frustration of not being there. He hated seeing the other exhausted, upset, hurt, or all of the above and not being able to hold him. He hated the panic every time the call dropped or froze. Hated the fear that washed over him when the alarms sounded or when Drew had to pause to put on a helmet. The worst was when the calls would suddenly drop and he wouldn't hear from Drew for days or weeks. That had last happened about two months ago and it had been one of the most anxious weeks of his life.

He had spent the last thirty minutes talking with Drew, trying to ease the angst inside his head while the uplink on Drew's side cut in and out of sync. It had been frustrating to say the least and eventually they had just given up. Drew had sounded better, a little more at peace, but Rick didn't know if that was true or just wishful thinking. He wouldn't know how anything was really affecting the other man until he was home, and that was still months away. He wasn't good at this waiting.

How Drew could have done this for him, how the hundreds of spouses, partners, and families of the other service men and women could… it wasn't even just the constant worry and fear of losing him, it was the loneliness. The times when he was having his own issues and wanted someone to comfort him… the nights he woke up in a cold sweat alone or the days the phantom pains in his leg were bad… he wanted someone there; someone who understood and cared, someone who would try to help. Also the times when he craved sex or affection or wanted to share something exciting… he hated this whole 'you can look but can't touch' bull shit.

Aggravated, Rick pushed himself to the side of the bed and grabbed his crutch. He made his way to get his leg and change into gym clothes. Focusing on school wasn't going to do any good right now, but a work out would at least be a distraction.

-line-

2 Weeks Later, 8:00 AM. Bagram Air Force Base.

"There he is, there's my man," Drew said proudly as he watched the footage of Rick running the agility course. He was in the day room with Ugh and Syd. The last couple weeks had been rough, but he and his unit had made it through. The investigation had backed up their actions in the village. They all had cleared their medical and psych checks. Marsh was still a little quiet, but he was coming back; they all knew it was going to take some time. They were all back on normal duty now, and already had another rescue.

Then today, in his email, Drew had found the video Rick sent him. He had started watching it, almost as excited as a kid on Christmas. That was how Ugh and Syd had found him, walking in halfway through. They had both immediately begun to tease him and made him start the video again so they could watch. They too got caught up in the excitement, and this moment was just a nice break from everything else that was around them.

Ugh laughed and pushed Drew's head forward, "Man… get yourself a room."

Drew laughed and shoved Ugh back. "Look at him though! That's on one leg," he continued.

Syd shook her head. "I don't think I could run that on two legs anymore."

"Sure you could, Ma'am, you'd get the best score too. Just tell the drill Sergeant to go to their room if they say you didn't," Ugh said with mock seriousness.

Syd narrowed her eyes at him, "if I tell you to go to your room, does that mean I'll finally get some peace and quiet?"

"No Ma'am, You still got the Cap here. Sorry," Ugh came back making Syd laugh.

"Hey!" Drew called, looking away from the video, "I'm not bothering anyone!"

"No, Captain, you're too busy watching your boyfriend's ass," Ugh replied.

"Yeah, well, he's got a nice one…." Drew shrugged, completely unashamed, that made Syd laugh harder than before.

"Oh man… I might actually miss you two," she said.

"What's the count now Major?" Drew asked, referring to her time left at Bagram.

"Nine days until home. Fourteen days until Riley's thirteen, and I can not wait."

"Nine days… man, I'll trade you. Want three months?" Drew asked.

"Haha... no thanks. It's hard enough waiting the nine days. I promised my little girl I would be home and I am going to keep that promise," she said.

"Oh… look at you two with your nine days and three months left… boohoo boohoo…" Ugh quipped, stretching out on a couch. "It's be a shame if you suddenly had five months."

Drew shook his head still smiling, "awe man, I forgot. I'm sorry."

"No you're not. Don't you lie to me," Ugh replied. "But hey, thirteen huh? That's a big birthday isn't it?"

Syd nodded, "I have a teenager. I am not ready…"

"Nobody is. My sister, when she hit thirteen… man I thought I was gonna lose it. Hell, I was still a kid myself and had no idea what to do," Ugh shook his head, but he was laughing. The young man had been eighteen when his parents had been killed in a car accident. His sister had been sent to live with his grandparents while he was in basic and nursing school. A few years later, at twenty-three, his grandfather had a stroke and his grandma could no longer take care of her. Now married, and with an established career, he took custody of his then ten year old sister. She was now fourteen, and he was very much a father figure in her life.

"Care to give me some advice?" Syd asked.

"Prepare to always be wrong and have very high cell phone bills," he said and shook his head.

Drew laughed again and grabbed a set of headphones, plugging them in.

"What are you doing?" Syd asked, eyebrow raised, "You have rounds in twenty minutes."

Drew nodded, "yes Ma'am. I'll be quick. He's probably tired anyway, it's almost eleven stateside…"

Syd shook her head and looked back over to Ugh, "he's hopeless."

"Lost another to love struck," Ugh agreed solemnly, "such a terrible disease. Terminal, I hear."

"It's supposed to be, but I know a few people who've beaten the odds," Syd came back, "not him though."

"Haha… very funny," Drew said, already calling Rick. "Do you mind?"

"Do I mind what?" Rick said, amused as the call connected.

"Oh hey! There he is!" Ugh called, seeing Rick on the screen, "Hey, Captain Lincoln! Your biggest fan has been singing your praises over here!"

"Ugh…" Drew called in a warning voice as Rick and Syd laughed.

"I wasn't talking about you, Sir, I was talking about me!" he came back and dodged the mouse pad that Drew threw at him.

"Alright Lieutenant, that's enough. Come on, let's give the two some privacy," Syd came to Drew's defense, taking Ugh's arm and pushing him towards the door. "Oh, but Captain Lincoln, please try to get him home by curfew!" There was another round of laughter and Drew was beat red as the two other retreated. It took about a minute for Rick to get his laughter back under control.

"You done?" Drew asked with mock annoyance.

"Oh man… I love them… who were they?" he asked, still laughing some, "part of your unit?"

"Ugh was the comedian and he's my Lieutenant. Syd is my Major," Drew sighed, "and they're both pains in the ass."

"Yeah. I can tell," Rick said, shaking his head. "You have a curfew, huh? Do you have a bedtime too?" he teased.

"Rounds in twenty minutes. Don't get cute," Drew said, glaring but then his face quickly turned into a smile. "I'm so proud of you."

Rick laughed and shook his head. "I'm so tired…and sore…" he said, "And I broke my new leg… Krista had to fix it for me."

"You broke your leg?" Drew asked, head titled to the side. He couldn't remember seeing that in the footage.

"Oh yeah, I literally left my leg out there on the field. But I did it!" was Rick's cheerful answer.

"You know, that's not what they mean when they say give it your all, right? You're supposed to keep it together."

"Cute… real cute… but yeah. I got to the end of the course, and it was the mud crawl, so when I reached the finish line and the Sergeant is helping me up, it just fell right off. I think he almost fainted, and I probably shouldn't have laughed but…" Rick shrugged, smiling.

"That's funny… and I'm so proud of you," Drew said, returning the smile.

"I did good too. I did a lot better than I thought I would, like I never even left."

"I'm glad, I really am, but Rick, please… they only take the top ten percent…" Drew started, he didn't want Rick to get his hopes up and suddenly have them crushed.

Rick shook his head. "I know, I know. And I don't even care because I did it. I beat the course. Fastest time too."

"That's awesome..." he paused as Rick's words caught up with him, "wait, how do you know it's the fastest time?"

Rick laughed, "I already got the call. Top one percent. They want me to train the trainers."

Drew laughed, "That's… haha! That's fantastic! I can't say it enough, I'm so proud of you."

Rick laughed but then he grew serious. "Drew there's a problem," he said and Drew felt a sudden sense of dread take hold.

"What's wrong?" Drew asked and his face paled slightly.

"They offered me that position but if I took it, I would have to go to Fort Bragg," Rick said, all too serious.

Drew was stunned. He felt like his world was on the verge of shattering. He had just gotten Rick back and now he was going to lose him again. He didn't know if he'd survive that but he also knew he'd never be able to forgive himself if he didn't let Rick go. Rick, like he, had wanted to make a career out of the Army, and this was his chance to do that. Nothing should stop him from it, especially not a sort of boyfriend who wasn't even in the same time zone. No, he loved Rick too much to ask him to stay. He knew that.

"Uh… that's… it's a promotion right? And ah… that's… you earned it. And Fort Bragg is…"

"Not for me," Rick said cutting him off and he laughed at the look Drew gave him. He had gone from stunned, to heart broken, to royally confused all in a matter of seconds. It was both funny and kind of sweet for Rick to watch, but only because he knew what was happening.

"Rick… wait… did you… are you not taking the job?" Drew asked.

"Oh, no, I took the job," Rick said and laughed at the face Drew was making. "So, San Antonio PD is partnering with the Army to better prepare for mass causality incidents and this trial was a joint exercise between the police and Army. Lot of brass from both were there watching. I got offered a position on San Antonio SWAT team, both as a trainer and team leader. I'm staying."

"Rick… that's… I thought you wanted… you're not giving up on Fort Bragg because of me? I don't want you to…" Drew was grasping for words and Rick couldn't stop laughing. It was adorable.

"It's going to be much less paperwork, better pay, and more action. It'll be like I'm back in a unit. I think it's much more my pace," he then grew serious, "besides, I made you a promise that I would stay. I'm not staying because of you. I'm staying because I want to and because I love you. I'm staying for us."

Drew hung his head laughing. "Oh man… you planned this, didn't you? Exactly like this…"

"Yes, yes I did. And you need to go before you're past curfew," Rick teased. "And I need to go to bed."

"I'm so proud of you, and I love you," Drew said, and then the feed was gone.


	5. Chapter 5

2 days later. 1:45 PM. Afghanistan

The call came at 0920 hours. A relatively quiet day had turned into horror-spun chaos. A bomb in a village market had gone off, creating panic and drawing out the combined Afghan and American forces stationed at an outpost there. As soon as they began rescue efforts, the attack had begun. While the combined forces were able to push back the insurgents, there were casualties. Mostly the civilians caught in the bomb blast and now the crossfire. A request for aid was made and Bagram sent out two teams of medical personnel. Syd had a team of four nurses and one other doctor helping her to triage, organize transport, and basically maintain control of the staging area. Drew and his team were working search and rescue operations. Right now, they were busy evacuating people from the 'warm' zones, just outside where the thick of the fighting was. There wasn't too much fighting left from what command was saying. Just a couple pockets they needed to force out. That was good, because they already had forty dead and over 100 wounded.

"Captain," Syd said coming over to where he was passing on a report for his latest rescues. She was exhausted and hot, covered in dust and other people's blood. She wanted a shower and to sleep, but didn't they all?

Drew was in much a similar state, his eyes looking almost blankly at her. He was running very much on automatic, and it had to be that way. His team had reached the market where the attack was initiated and it wasn't pretty. Not that the staging area was any better. Hundreds of people, the majority of them civilians, were gathered around, some crying out in grief and some in pain. Others were in shock or disbelief, while still others were angry. There were a few soldiers mixed in both as patients and peacekeepers. The whole situation was chaos.

"Major," he acknowledged before turning to look at Ugh. "Can you repack our kits and meet me back here in fifteen?"

"Yes sir," Ugh nodded then headed off.

Turning to Jim-Jo and Marsh he ordered, "refill on water and see if you can get some food for us?"

"Yes sir," Jim said, "ammo for Rambo here too?"

Drew nodded and sighed, "command said we were low..."

"I'll try not to waste it again, maybe just use my rifle as a bat?" Marsh joked tiredly. He was referring to the small group of insurgents that had discovered them during search and rescue. Marsh and Jim-Jo had managed to pin them down, protecting Drew and Ugh who were in a bad spot with a patient. They had held them there long enough for backup to come.

"Yeah. No. I don't want them that close. Ammo it is," Drew joked back. The two younger men laughed before they too headed off. It was then that he turned his full attention to Syd.

"Sorry Ma'am. What do you need?" He asked tiredly.

"It's fine Captain. I heard about your firefight. Wanted to check on you. Garry also was cussing up a storm when he heard. That means he's worried, right?" She said with a tired smile.

"Depends, what phrase did he use?" Drew asked, returning the smile.

"I believe it was "those fucking shit headed idiots", but don't quote me…" she answered shrugging.

Drew laughed softly briefly taking a moment to let the tension ease before gathering himself again. . "That is what that usually means, yeah…. We're all right. It was a little tense but Marsh and Jim-Jo did good," Drew reassured. "Shouldn't be too many more hostiles out there. They've got them pressed to one area. I don't think we'll have any more problems going back out."

"Good. Because if you got yourself killed and I got my tour extended, I would figure out how to bring you back to kill you myself."

Drew smiled and shook his head. "That would be something you'd do," he said, then growing serious, he asked "How's it looking here?"

"Most victims are walking wounded. We've got at least twenty civilians going to Bagram for critical care and ten soldiers. Those that are serious but not critical are being sent to the local hospital. The rest of the injured are going to a Red Cross refugee clinic for treatment. A lot of people are refusing to leave though, can't blame them," Syd updated him. "Garry has been fantastic about coordinating the transportation for everything. More efficient than I could be, glad you loaned him to me."

Drew shrugged, "wasn't much he'd be doing with me except getting shot at. How much longer do you think we're gonna be here?"

"You tell me, you're the one crawling through the mess," Syd came back, crossing her arms in front of her.

Drew sighed and shook his head, "we're on the edge of the market. There are more bodies there than wounded. We can't move forward though, cause they're still flushing out the insurgents."

Syd shook her head. In a weird way, violence against soldiers made sense to her. She understood battlefield injuries and the horror of it. She didn't like it, she didn't want it to continue, but it was easier to accept a soldier had a bullet wound than a child. She would never, in all her years, understand why anyone would set a bomb off in a civilian market or shoot and terrorize their own country man. She hated scenes like this one, they reminded her of the ugliness of people and always made her feel uneasy.

"Keep yourselves safe and no heroics. You four are medical staff out there, let the grunts do the fighting," she ordered, her tone leaving no room for arguments.

Drew nodded, distracted as his men returned, prepared to go back out. "Yes Ma'am," he said automatically because that was what you were supposed to say to an order.

"Drew," Syd said firmly, this time getting his attention. "I mean it. No heroics. Just come back home tonight. Alright?"

Drew was quiet for a moment, a little confused as to the urgency in her voice. He didn't comment on it though, he just gave her yet another tired smile and said, "No heroics. I'll make sure you catch your plane home."

With that said he saluted then left to rejoin his men and head back out. The danger was low now that they had the fighting contained to one area. Drew and his team were experienced soldiers. He had reassured her that it would be fine, almost promised her and she trusted him. So why was the mom in her screaming to call him back and keep him from going into the market again?

-line-

It was slow but steady progress through the market. The street was eerily quiet except for the gunfire that echoed from just a mile up. The damage was minimal, the bomb blast radius confined to the market's center and just a few shops. Most of the residual damage was from the firefight between the insurgents and the troops.

Sadly, the majority of the victims they were finding had died, most from gunshot wounds. There had been about ten bodies so far. They had found a mother and her two sons huddled in a stall, scared, bruised, and exhausted but otherwise fine. Ugh and Marsh had taken the family back to base while Jim-Jo and Drew continued making their way through the street. The combat unit ahead of them would occasionally radio back reports of other walking wounded and civilians who had taken cover, advising the base to expect foot traffic. That was at least a positive.

Currently Drew and Jim-Jo were behind cover taking a quick water break. They were in a shop close to the blast area; both nearly over heated, covered in dust, exhausted, and ready to quit. The occasional sound of weapons fire drifted back to them, but that was so common that the pair had mostly tuned it out. Instead they had focused their attention on the area around them, as tired as they were, they knew better than to be distracted.

"What ya think Doc?" Jim-Jo sighed. "Time to get back at it?" He didn't sound thrilled at the thought, and to be honest neither was Drew.

"Yeah. Unfortunately. But on the bright side," he answered, standing up, "We're almost done this round. Hopefully we'll have a relief unit soon."

"I thought we were the relief unit?" Jim-Jo quipped as he too stood up.

"Don't remind me," came the groaned reply.

The pair took a moment to look around before stepping out into the street. It had been clear, no sign of enemies or danger. There had been no warnings from the combat unit just a few blocks over. No indication that the insurgents were even close to where they were. It was the definition of relative safety, and in a second that was all shattered.

Jim-Jo had been the first to step out into the open. He had stood, partially protected by the building in that sort of relaxed alertness. The kind that meant you were aware of the area around you but didn't see any threats. But the problem was, just because you didn't see them didn't mean they weren't there. As Jim-Jo stood there, he was unaware that the insurgents had split into two groups. He didn't know that a small team had moved to flank the combat unit and were not even a block away from where he and Drew had sheltered. He didn't know that one of them had taken aim at him...

He didn't know until the bullet ripped through his arm, that is.

Jim-Jo cried out at the searing pain, stumbling back towards the building he had been in. He didn't make it far before the second shot tore through his leg and he fell. He lay in the dirt, pain engulfing him, as the sky erupted above him. In a detached understanding, he knew that Drew was returning fire. He heard the quick volleys, knew they were standard cover fire. He felt Drew grab his vest, felt the jolt through his body as he was suddenly shifted. He cried out as he was dragged, the movement jarring his injuries. The surge of pain was so overwhelming that for a moment he blacked out. When the world came back into focus, he was tucked well and truly behind cover, blocked from view of the door with Drew over top him. Drew was on the radio; Jim-Jo could hear him calling in their position. Could hear him saying "man down" but he couldn't exactly understand what was happening.

"Doc… guess I'm the dumbass now…" he called, his voice heavy.

Drew looked at him, eyes hard. They softened when he met Jim-Jo's though. "Hang in there, help's on the way…" he said. Jim-Jo could tell the other was examining him, already cataloging the care he needed. It was reassuring, having Drew as his doctor. He knew what the man could do.

"Doc…" he said again, trying to find out how bad it was. He hurt. He was bleeding. But they also had hostiles in bound. They needed to move.

"It's alright Jim. Cavalry's coming," Drew looked up to the door. There wasn't anyone there, not yet. He shouldered his weapon and pulled out a tourniquet. "Your arm is a through shot. Not too bad. Leg is a problem though. This is gonna hurt a little," he warned a millisecond before he applied the tourniquet.

Jim-Jo cried out as fiery hot pain once again surged through his leg. It was followed quickly by another burning pain at his arm as a pressure bandage was applied. It took less than a minute for Drew to apply the first and most basic level of care he could then returned to a defensive position; a testament to the medic he had once been. For Jim-Jo though, his head was left spinning and he felt like he was going to vomit.

"Hey. Stay with me Jim!" Drew called, repositioning the other so he was sitting up.

Coming back to reality, Jim-Jo was aware of people approaching. He hopped it was the cavalry all the while knowing it wasn't. He felt fear wash over him; he was down, he couldn't help protect them. Did Drew have enough ammo to hold the hostiles off? Was back up coming? How far out were they? How outnumbered were they? How were they getting out of this?

"Jim!" Drew snapped in a harsh whisper. The Taliban were definitely closer now. He could hear them talking. "Eyes front," Drew hissed, the authority in his voice making the other focus.

"Captain?" He whispered back and managed to look at Drew. For the barest of seconds he saw the other smile before going back into command mode.

"You're gonna lay low and remain in cover. Play dead. Understand?"

"Sir…" something about this didn't feel right. Something seemed decided and he sensed he wasn't going to like this decision, "Sir... wha…"

"That's an order. Play dead," Drew barked in an almost frantic whisper as the enemy approached. He glanced up in the direction of the door quickly before looking back a last time at Jim-Jo, and said in a kinder voice, "it's all gonna be alright Jim-Jo."

Then he was gone.

-line-

6:00 PM, San Antonio

Rick was humming as he came into the apartment. He dropped his grocery bags on the counter and sighed as he was wrapped in the beautiful wonderful air conditioning. How it could be evening and still so damn hot was almost beyond him. Not even four tours had prepared him for Texas springs. Still the heat couldn't dampen his spirit. In less than a month, he was going to be starting his new job. His classes were finished and he'd passed with an A. Drew would laugh as soon as he told him, because he had told Rick that he would pass just fine. Even when he was freaking out during the finals, Drew just told him to relax. It was always funny how that worked between them; they could always see how well the other was doing just never themselves. Hell, he could remember all the times Drew would lose his mind over a test or a practical and Rick would just shake his head.

Thinking of Drew, Rick looked at the clock, his humming dying. His brow furrowed as he realized that he hadn't heard from the other man today. Not even an email. It wasn't that odd, really, but it made him wonder. It was somewhere around 0330 hours over there now, already tomorrow, so he doubted he would hear from him. A wave of loneliness washed over him and he sighed. "Seventy-three days… seventy-three days and he's home," Rick murmured to himself.

He smiled as he remembered when Drew had come home from his second tour. He had gone to pick him up from the airport and had asked if he'd eaten and Drew hadn't. Rick asked what he wanted for his first official meal back and Drew had answered McDonalds…

" _Uh-uh. No... You're first meal back is not going to be that garbage. Nah…" Rick laughed._

" _Come on, it's no worse than what they fed us over there," Drew said, trying to cover a yawn. Jet lag and being up thirty hours straight were kicking his ass big time._

" _Well, now you're home. So now you get omelets…" Rick said._

" _Omelets? At 1800 hours…" Drew said, sounding skeptical._

" _Yeah. I'm gonna make you an omelet…" Rick said, smiling._

" _Isn't that the only thing you can cook?" Drew teased._

" _Hey baked apples. I can make that too," Rick mumbled in a fake pout. Drew had laughed. "That's what we'll have. Omelets and baked apples."_

 _Drew, still laughing, shook his head and said, "a home cooked meal, huh?"_

 _Rick had laughed and called him a smart ass, or something like that, reaching for the other's hand so he could kiss it; so damn thankful to be able to touch the other man._ _"Only the best for you," he had said, and Drew had just laughed again._

They had in fact had omelets, and apples too. The rest of that night had been spent in bed, though not exactly the way Rick had hopped. Drew had fallen asleep pretty fast after eating, pressed to Rick's side. Of course, waking up the next morning had made up for the lack of 'excitement' and most of that first day had also been spent in bed… it was funny how now he really looked forward to Drew falling asleep in his arms again and not just sex. With a wistful smile, Rick began putting away the groceries. "Seventy three days better fucking fly by," he mumbled to himself. It was roughly a half hour later that his phone rang.

He frowned when he recognized a government number, wondering why the US Army would be calling at almost 1900 hours. Then he felt his stomach clench as a wave of impending doom unexplainably washed over him. "Rick Lincoln," he answered, voice barley steady.

"Captain Lincoln, can you hear me okay? I have some static on my end," Came a garbled voice. It was a female's and Rick recognized it from two days ago and his video chat with Drew.

"Your Drew's Major, right Ma'am?" He asked, and he felt fear crawling along his spine. His heart was speeding up and he was fighting the urge to panic. All of the reasons he could think of that the Major would be calling were bad.

"Yeah. Major Jennings… Captain, I'm sorry about the hour but I wanted to inform you… wanted to make sure you knew," she sounded tired, her voice strained and hitched in away that he couldn't blame on the static in the line.

"Major. What's happened to Drew, Ma'am?" He asked, his Ranger training, the part that let him override his panic, kicking in. It was the only thing that was keeping him calm.

She sighed on the other end of the phone, and took a pause to gather herself. Even still, when she spoke next he could hear the emotion she was forcing in check. "At approximately 1500 hours, Drew and a soldier in his command were ambushed while performing search and rescue duties during a combat operation. The soldier was injured and Drew managed to get them both to cover and relay their position to a nearby unit. He provided first aid to the soldier, saving his life, but," and here her voice hitched forcing her to take a moment to regain control. "However" she started again, "the enemy was closing in and they were outnumbered. It is unclear exactly what happened, but Drew had moved to defend their position when he was overwhelmed. He is now missing in action and is believed to be a prisoner of war."

And just like that, the world shattered and he forgot how to breathe. It was only because of his training that he was able to remain standing, phone still pressed to his ear. He was shaking, and tears were blurring his vision and burning his eyes. He would give anything to wake up right now, to make this nightmare stop. But he had to remain in focus, his emotions in check, because the Major was still talking.

"The good news, at least relatively speaking, at this time we don't believe he is seriously injured or dead. We also believe that he is still in the combat area. The operation is still underway, so we don't believe he's been moved," she said her voice steadier. But to Rick, this all sounded like grasping at straws… false hope. Because he knew, once you were taken, you were a dead man walking.

"How… how long?" He managed to ask, his mind calculating, trying to figure out if there was even a chance.

"About thirteen hours. The Army just officially declared him missing, and suspected POW," she answered.

"You don't even know?" He couldn't keep the anger or the sob out of his voice. He had his training to keep him in control, but that could only take him so far.

"I'm sorry. We're still looking for him. We're going to find him," she said and he wished he believed her.

That made him angry. "Don't say that. Don't tell me that. Because I can't…" Rick took a shuddering breath, "does his parents know? Have they…"

"Yes. Notification was made," she said, her voice sober. "I have to go now. I promise, I'll try and keep you updated. And Captain… I'm sorry."

Rick didn't respond, he couldn't. His throat was closing, his chest constructing, and body growing numb. The call was disconnected, but he remained frozen in place, exactly how he was, until his body began to shake. As soon as the involuntary movement began, the weight of a thousand pains crashed in on him and there was nothing he could do to bare it. He collapsed to his knees. His eyes, wield and wide, staring at the hell that now surrounded him. Sure, nothing was ominous or threatening, everything still looked the same, but now it was all frozen. His entire world had frozen in this moment. The countdown to Drew's return, the repairs to their relationship, even the air around him, all of it was frozen. And he was oh so helpless.

He didn't know if Drew was alive or dead, so he couldn't mourn. He was angry, so damn angry at the world and the war and the Army, but he didn't have anything there to fight. He wanted to go over there, to be a Ranger and launch a rescue or do something to help, but he didn't have his fucking leg. He was useless, absolutely useless, and the man he loved had never needed help more than now.

"Damn it!" He shouted slamming his hands into the floor. And once he did that, he couldn't stop. He unleashed a flurry of violence, beating his fists into the floor until his knuckles were bloody and his hands were achingly numb. With his energy spent, he sank back onto his butt, eyes unfocused and mind blank, staring into the frozen nothing that was his hell now.


	6. Chapter 6

4:40 AM. Bagram US Air Force Base

In less than a week she was supposed to have been flying home. She would have been landing in San Antonio International, her daughter waiting for her at the gate. She would have dropped her baggage to catch the child flying into her arms and wrapped her in an almost suffocating embrace. She would have gone out to dinner with her mother and daughter and they would have been laughing and smiling and everything would have been perfect…

Then today happened.

Today derailed all of that. There would be no leaving next week. There would be no happy reunion, no laughter and smiles. She wouldn't be able to see her daughter turn thirteen. Her tour had been extended for up to another three months to cover Drew's absence. The General was trying to get someone called up for active duty, but she wasn't going to hold her breath. And she couldn't even be mad about it. She would gladly stay another year if that meant Drew would make it back.

She was sitting in the officer's lounge, the lights out and room empty. An untouched mug of coffee in front of her holding her attention as she purposely forced her mind not to think. This had been her state since calling Rick, Drew's boyfriend. It wasn't technically protocol since he wasn't next of kin, but she didn't really care. He deserved to know and from the little Drew spoke of his family she doubted they would tell him. She got the sense his family wasn't supportive, and that just made this all so much worse in her mind.

Drew Alister was one of the finest officers she had ever served with and he was becoming one hell of a doctor. In a few years she had no doubt that he'd be the best damn trauma surgeon the Army could produce. He was loyal, a little hot headed but had a heart of gold, brave to a fault… how any parent couldn't be proud of that, how any parent could reject their child for something as petty as being gay…

She remembered the night she and Drew had had that conversation. How he had let it slip about his father's rejection and his mother's silence. It had been an accidental admission, brought on by sleep deprivation and those after midnight heart to heart moments. She had been looking for advice about Riley, because her daughter thought she might have a crush on another girl. She wanted to know how to tell her it was fine, and all Drew had said was, "just don't change how you interact with her. Don't reject her or disown her for something they can't change." It had taken those words to bring out her mama bear. From that moment on, he was one of her kids and not just her second.

It wasn't just her though, he was well respected by his unit and fellow soldiers on base, he was family to them all. This was a hard blow for everyone and no one was sleeping well tonight. But not everyone had, had to hear the raw grief and fear in Rick's voice, even as he fought to keep it in check.

"Major?" Ugh called, his voice soft, as if he were afraid to disturb the isolation she was seeking.

"Lieutenant," she replied tonelessly. "How's Jim-Jo doing?" She asked, knowing that was where he had been coming from.

"He's stable. Got a ticket home with a layover in Germany, but he's gonna be up an moving soon. Hates himself, though, thinks it's his fault, like getting shot was his idea," Ugh sighed, sinking down into a chair, "funny thing is, Marsh and I feel the same way… if we had been moving faster or hadn't left them… Garry just cusses when anybody comes near him."

"You too, huh?" She said with a bitter smile.

"Aren't we all just rays of fucking sunshine, huh Ma'am?" He sighed. "Have you heard any updates?"

"Nothing but what we already know. The insurgents are dug in on the east side of the village center. Unknown how many blocks they're holding. Right now there's no movement or advancement due to safety concerns but our side is also dug in. The village is important to hold because of its proximity to the base; so we're not gonna pull out. No sign of Drew," She sighed and, frustrated, ran a hand through her hair.

"Major… what," Ugh took a moment to center himself, "what are the chances of getting him home? And I don't mean his body, I mean him."

Syd took a long moment to consider the question and the man asking it. He, like she and Drew, were career Army. Multiple tours under his belt, he'd seen a lot of things better left forgotten, gone to a lot of funerals for good people… and he was asking her for hope despite knowing better.

"Until they confirm anything, don't give up on him. Okay?" She said, and while it wasn't a good answer, it was the best she could offer.

-line-

7:40 AM. Afghanistan.

He remembered telling Jim-Jo to play dead. He remembered telling him it was going to be all right. Then he remembered waking up, stripped of his gear and only in boots, pants, and his undershirt. His wrist were bound behind his back, hands numb from lack of blood flow. He was lying face down in the dirt of some kind of closet. His head was pounding, and he felt sick. The right side of his face felt funny too, like it was coated in something. Around him, he could hear men talking in Arabic. They sounded tense and hurried. In the distance he could hear weapons fire, faint but distinct. The fact that he wasn't gagged however told him that he was too far from the fighting to be heard by anyone other than the enemy. So he had stayed quiet and simply waited.

By the time they had come in for him, he had managed to get himself into a seated position and against the far wall of the room. It had been three men who came in, two with guns and one with a gloating smirk. One of the men with guns, Drew had recognized as a villager he'd treated and it was odd the sense of betrayal he felt at that. The two with guns came and roughly pulled him to his knees, standing on either side of him. The gloating man stood in front of him, studying him a moment. "They tell me you're a doctor," he said in accented English.

Drew squared his shoulders and set his jaw. He remained silent, eyes front, unwilling to answer. One of the men next to him smashed their rifle butt between his shoulder blades for his insolence. He grunted and fell forward, only his MMA training keeping him from face planting. He landed to his side and instantly curled up to protect his midsection, as they kicked his back and stomped his side before hauling him gasping back up.

"It would do well to answer, American. I am not a patient man." The gloating man said. "Are you a doctor?"

Catching his breath, Drew straightened again and stared forward. He remained silent. This time, it was a boot to his back and he was forced down into the dirt. Another two stomps to his kidneys, and he was yanked up by his shirt collar. His head was pushed back, so that his neck was hyper-extended and a knife was pressed to the carotid artery.

"Are you a doctor?" came the question again. He knew, with out being told, this was his last chance to answer.

"Yes," he said, hating himself for giving in. However, surviving was more important than pride. His head was released and the knife was removed. He was allowed to square his shoulders again as the two gunman stepped back a little.

"So, a doctor who kills men, huh?" The man said, and Drew could feel his anger. "A doctor who shoots boys. Kills two of my men… Doctors are supposed to save lives, are they not? But you took lives today."

Drew hid the flinch of guilt. He knew this was a mind game; any action he had taken today had been to protect Jim-Jo and himself. He could not recall being taken, but he knew it would not have been quietly. Whatever had happened, it had been necessary, but taking life violated the oath he'd made as doctor. That was something he'd have to live with, but for now he shoved it away. "I'm a soldier before I'm a doctor," Drew replied, voice steady.

The man backhanded him, hard enough that his teeth rattled and for a moment his vision blurred. He felt something warm on his lip and when he ran his tongue over the spot, he tasted blood. Drew felt the anger bubble inside him, but he forced it down and squared his shoulders again, eyes staring forward. Surviving over pride was quickly becoming his mantra.

"You should die for their deaths! They were better men than you could ever hope to be!" The man spat at him. Drew did not let himself react, holding to survival over pride. "You will pay for the boys you murdered. But, right now you will be a doctor. I have wounded men, and you will treat them or you will die. Do you understand?"

"Yes," Drew replied, and he did. So long as he was useful, he would stay alive.

"If any more of my men die at your hands, you will pay for that too," he hissed at Drew, and so had begun his slave labor.

Over the next ten hours, he had been forced to aid the enemy. At gunpoint, he performed over a dozen minor procedures. Things like setting bones, stitching wounds, and bandaging wounds. Before all that, however, he had done half a dozen surgeries, mostly non critical, but all still exhausting. There was one patient, however, who was critical and Drew didn't think was going to make it.

The man, roughly twenty years old, had been shot multiple times. While two of the wounds had been relatively neat through-and-throughs, the third had hit the spleen. The bleeding had been severe and by the time Drew was able to locate it and stop it, he had already lost a significant amount of blood. Everything was worse by the poor quality of the clinic the insurgents had taken over. He had minimal supplies, almost no drugs, and no blood bank. He had managed to keep the man alive with fluids and recycling his own blood with the trick T.C. had once taught him, but it was only buying time. Already his pressure was slipping. Drew had warned the gloating man, almost begged him to have someone take the kid to the local hospital. He had been backhanded and dragged back into his makeshift holding cell.

Now, Drew sat on the ground of the closet, his back was against the wall, knees up to his chest and arms resting on top with his head resting on them. He was exhausted, but he was too miserable to try and sleep. He was sore, his chest and back aching. His head still throbbed and stomach still churned and he was constantly fighting the dizziness he felt. He was hungry and thirsty, but his captors didn't seem to plan on giving him anything. He was also cold, and it bothered him that the shivering had stopped about a half hour ago. To make it worse, in the quiet and isolation of this cell, his mind had started running through what if's and lonely thoughts.

He was trying hard not to feel sorry for himself but with nothing to do except think, that was impossible. He knew by now that the Army would have informed his parents and he wondered if they even cared. Did his father feel any sense of fear or loss when the soldiers came to tell them or did he just say good riddance? What was his mother thinking? Was she worrying herself sick? What would his sister tell her daughters? Would the girls even understand what had happened to their uncle? Would anybody tell Rick?

Rick….

The thought of him was both a comfort and heartbreak. On the one hand, he felt strength knowing the other was waiting for him, that he had come back and still loved him. It fueled his need to survive, the life he wanted with Rick. But on the other hand, he felt miserable thinking about the future he could very well lose. It was also hard to think about what Rick would do to himself if Drew didn't make it back. The other what ifs playing in his head were also centered on Rick. What if no one told him? What if he tried to contact Drew and got no replies? What if Rick thought Drew was mad at him or had stopped caring? What if he thought Drew hated him?

The rational part of his brain knew this wasn't likely to happen. It tried to sooth the gnawing panic his thoughts were making, but he was scared and alone. He was trying so hard to be strong and composed. He was trying to be brave, but he had never been this terrified in his life. He would give anything to be in Rick's arms right now, the only place he ever truly felt safe.

Forcing out a sigh to keep from sobbing, he squeezed his eyes shut tightly to stop the tears. Crying wasn't going to help and would just make it worse. He couldn't force himself not to think, but he could change what he thought about. He focused on trying not to dwell and narrowed in on happy memories. Trying to hold onto the faces and emotions that came from his friends and family back home.

Like the love he felt when he had dinner with Topher and his family. The joy of hearing Lynn laugh and watching the twins play. Or the way that T.C., someone he never wanted to disappoint, just always seemed to accept him as he was. How T.C. always turned the mistakes he made into learning points instead of catastrophes. Or Jordan and her mothering. The way she was always looking out for him and how protected that made him feel. Kenny and his pranks that always made him laugh, but also his encouragement. He may not always like what Kenny said, but it was always what he needed to hear. Krista with her infectious energy and willingness to drop everything to hang out or help him; how she was always pushing him to be a better person. Paul with his honest curiosity and his ability to see good in others, the exact kind of person Drew wanted to protect. There were of course all the others at SAM who had taken the place of his family as well.

The trainings with his unit in the reserves and the bond it installed in them, the sense of belonging. The cookouts, and outings they had, all the things they did to share their lives and support each other. The brotherhood they shared. The inside jokes, the laughter, the tears, all of the things they had come to appreciate. How each one of them had accepted him when he came out, accepted Rick. How they had come together to help his boyfriend move into his apartment, helped take care of him so he could focus on Rick. He fondly remember when they found out he was getting deployed without them, they took him out for one hell of a send off.

Hell, he even thought about his father and all the times they spent together when he was a kid. He thought about his mother, his sister, and his nieces and how he missed them. How he regretted being cut off from them. And of course, he thought about Rick. He thought about him the most. It was in this quiet and dark hell that he made himself and the universe a promise. If he made it home, he was going to ask Rick to marry him.

That thought kept him calm as he sat there. It even allowed him to let his mind wander towards sleep. But he didn't get much of a chance to rest before the door was pulled open and angry voices were shouting. Light filled his prison, blinding him. He managed to scramble to his knees while trying to shield himself from the two men who had come for him. Drew didn't have a chance to prepare for anything, though, before a rifle butt smashed into his side knocking him over and two pairs of hands grabbed hold of him. They dragged him from the room. He couldn't stifle a groan as the rough treatment mixed with the sudden light aggravated his injuries. He did manage to keep himself from vomiting. He was hauled to a back room of the clinic and shoved to his knees on the floor in front of a bed, gun barrel pressed to his skull. Weakly he held his hands up, indicating he wasn't going to resist and tried to catch his breath. He didn't have to look up to know where he was or what was happening.

"I thought you were a doctor," the gloating man said, although he sounded more enraged than smug right now. "But yet you have killed a third of my men. Another boy!"

Drew swallowed; he had a feeling this was going to happen. He looked up, straightening enough to see that he was at the bedside of the boy with the spleen bled. It was clear that he had died by the pallor of his skin and the complete stillness of his body. He'd seen enough death to know.

"I told you he needed a transfusion and there wasn't any blood," Drew said, trying not to be angry. But not quit able too. It didn't matter that the kid was technically his enemy, as soon as he became his patient Drew would fight for him. He took the man's death personally, especially knowing if he had had a proper facility than he would've lived.

The kick to his abdomen was quick; he had no time to brace. The wind was knocked from him and he made a gasping sound and he crumpled forward. He wrapped one arm around his stomach and used the other catch himself from hitting the floor. There was nothing he could do to keep from vomiting now. He retched, a violent series of shudders that produced nothing but mucus and bile. The gloating man was unimpressed.

"I told you, if any more of my men died you would be punished, didn't I?!" The man yelled.

"I'm sorry he's dead. I really am, but he had lost too much blood. I can't fix that," Drew tried to reason, even as he fought to regain his breath. He knew, however, it was useless.

"You are a killer and not a doctor," the man said, spitting on Drew, and then spoke in Arabic.

Immediately following, Drew felt the same two pairs of hands grab him and haul him to his feet. The sudden jostling and the vomiting fit left him in too much of a disarray to struggle. He was dragged to a post in the center of the main room. There were other men gathered around, forming a sort of ring, and that didn't bode well. He was shoved face first against the pole and his arms pushed up over his head. One of the men leaned against him, holding him in that position while the other tied his arms in place. By now Drew had regained enough sense to know whatever was going to happen was going to be bad. He tried to shake the man off his back and pull his hands free of the other but all he earned himself was his face bashed into the pole.

He felt his nose break the same time he heard it and the blood started flowing. The new pain mixed with the old pain making him retch again. It was a dry heave this time, as he had nothing left in him and he started to go limp. His vision darkened and he didn't think he was going to hang on until the ice water hit him. It was poured over his head and brought him back to alertness. He heard laughter and the men surrounding him started calling out, what he assumed were, taunts. He didn't really care, couldn't understand them anyway. What he did care about was his shirt being cut off. He tensed, heart racing, the possibilities running through his mind of what was about to happen.

"Stop…" Drew coughed, spitting out blood that was crawling down his throat. They only laughed harder.

The gloating man came and stood in front of him, using a finger to tilt his head up. Drew was forced to look into cold and hostile black eyes and he knew there was no way he could keep the fear from his own. "He was twenty one. That is one blow for each year to start. Fair?"

Drew swallowed, trying not to choke on his fear. "What are -" he started to say but the rest of the words were lost in a cry of pain as the whip came down across his back.


	7. Chapter 7

10:00 PM, San Antonio

It was the strangest of sensations, being so functional yet so completely numb. His body knew what it needed to do, how to go about doing it, and even did all the motions correctly. His mind, however, was completely voided. He had experienced fatigue before, operated plenty of times in combat completely exhausted, but this wasn't the same thing. He walked, in a surprisingly straight line with a surprisingly steady step but he had no idea where he was or what he was doing. It wasn't even that he didn't recognize his surroundings; it was that he couldn't see them. His brain had literally stopped conscious processing of information.

Then someone touched him.

All at once he snapped back. His mind recognized a threat and determined it needed its higher brain function. Even still the only thing he could manage was a startled jerk and a wobbly step back. The person who startled him reached out and steadied him, taking hold of his shoulders.

"Hey, easy there… Rick, you back with me?" Came a male voice, one he recognized as a friend.

Rick did a slow blink, everything suddenly coming back into focus. All at once he became aware that he was in an ER. There were people moving around him. It was too loud. The lights were annoyingly bright. His hands throbbed. T.C. and Topher were standing in front of him. T.C. was the one holding him steady, looking worried as he examined him.

"Rick? Can you hear me?" He asked, and though he sounded calm, Rick knew he was concerned.

"Tee," he managed to say through a choked throat.

"Hey, there you are. Welcome back," T.C. said and he guided Rick over to an empty gurney in one of the exam rooms. Topher followed, drawing the curtains.

"Rick, you feeling alright? You look a little spaced out there brother," Topher said as T.C. examined Rick's hands.

"I… where am I?" Rick asked, flinching when T.C. presses on his right index knuckle.

"You're at San Antonio Memorial. Do you know me?" Topher asked sharing a concerned look with T.C.

"Topher," Was the whispered answer.

"That's good," T.C. said, voice still calm and still steady. "I'm gonna check your head, alright? Looks like you were in a fight?"

Rick shook his head, "no. Not a fight. I'm not hurt." The admission made T.C. pause and he looked over at Topher, confused. With a soft laugh to cover his unease, T.C. said, "well, you got some busted knuckles. Want to tell us how?"

"I don't know… I'm not sure…" Rick said, not even looking at his hands. He was still staring off into nothing, tittering on the edge of losing it again.

"Are you having a flashback?" Topher asked. He remembered Drew had mentioned that at one point when Rick first came back. _"Not only is he dealing with losing his leg, but he's fighting PTSD now,"_ he had told him one night when he had found the young doctor hiding, for lack of a better term.

Rick shook his head and took a shuddering breath. "I'm fine," he repeated and he shut his eyes tightly.

Again Topher and T.C. shared a look, another telepathic conversation. They had found Rick in the hall, basically catatonic. He had mysterious injuries to his knuckles that looked like he'd been hitting something but no other signs of injuries. Though clearly something was wrong, he was in some kind of shock and was barely able to answer questions. Neither one of them would call him alert and oriented, but there was no obvious reason for it… Then it dawned on them both at the same time.

"Rick," Topher asked, voice soft like he was speaking to one of his girls after they had a nightmare, "You're fine... Is Drew okay?"

Another shuddering breath and Rick shook his head. He could feel tears burning his eyes but he refused to let them escape. He clenched his fist and held his breath, squeezing his eyes shut tighter. It was getting harder to hold it together.

Topher felt his stomach knot and his heart speed up. He suddenly felt sick. Looking over at T.C. he could see his friend had paled and was standing at attention. "Rick, can you tell us what happened to Drew? Is he…" and Topher has to swallow back some bile, "Is Drew injured or was he killed?"

Rick let out a bitter sound that may have been a laugh if it wasn't for the tears that escaped his eyes. "I don't know… the _Army_ doesn't know…" and his voice hitched.

"What do you know?" T.C. asked, his voice becoming gravelly with his own fear.

"He was on a combat operation and his position was over run. The Army declared him MIA and assumes he's a POW," Rick gasped out, and the other stared, dumbfounded.

"Combat… I don't understand. Drew said he was assigned to a base…" Topher said, and he looked at T.C. who seemed to already be making sense of what was going on.

"He was assigned to a combat unit?" T.C. asked Rick.

"Sort of," Rick said, "His team did rescue operations. He didn't want to tell you because he didn't want you to worry. But now he's… now…" and that was all that Rick's composer could take. The tears he had been fighting back for hours, the numbing shock, it all gave way. He buried his face into his hands sobbing as he curled into himself.

Everyone who didn't know what the service was, everyone who had never experienced what they had, always thought that death was the worst thing that could happen to a soldier. That wasn't true, there were several things worse than death. Being a POW, that was the top of the list, and not just for the soldier. The not knowing, the constant worry, the frustration of being helpless… it was like being forced to hold your breath without knowing when you'd be able to exhale, if you ever could again.

The other two men understood this though. They stood there, both in shock, but each offering a silent strength because one thing was sure, they were going to stand watch over their fellow Ranger. Despite their own fear, their own raw rage and grief, they would watch over Rick. He was not going to face this alone. It was the least they could to for a fellow soldier… the least they could do for Drew.

-line-

1:00 AM

By now the news had spread through the whole hospital. Everyone had heard and everyone was devastated. T.C. and Topher had decided to keep Rick there, Topher sedating him. They weren't admitting him, just monitoring his shock. The hope was sleep would help and if not, they'd figure it out. As it was Topher had pretty much set up camp in the room Rick was placed. It was a good thing that the shift was dead because he would be hard pressed to leave. Kenny had hidden himself away about an hour ago, and not one person was saying one thing about that. Mollie was covering for him, knowing damn well that he needed this time.

Krista had made it to the locker room before she collapsed into tears. Her best friend, her partner in crime, may never come back to her and she couldn't face that devastation. Joey had found her there, and he held her saying nothing as he let her cry. Paul had gone to the chapel, seeking solitude and a quiet place. He wanted to disappear, to not exist in this place anymore. Even Scott and Ragosa had had to take moments alone.

As for T.C., Jordan had found him up where the old Tailgate had been. He was sitting with his back against the building's wall, staring out over the parking lot. With soft steps she came up to him, taking note of the red-rimmed eyes and the blank stare. A look she knew she was mirroring. Sliding down next to him, she remained quiet. Things had been so hard between them lately... losing the baby, the ending of their relationship, her near death and his trip to Afghanistan… There was so much fallout between them, so much hurt and anger, but right now none of it mattered. They both needed each other. T.C. was the first to move, extending his arm to allow Jordan to curl up into his side. She did, drawing comfort from the embrace as he wrapped his arm around her. She felt fresh tears fall from her eyes as she thought about weather or not Drew was ever going to feel safe again.

"I remember when I first met him, the first night he was here. He was so far out of his comfort zone… his eyes were huge, like he was on the battlefield. I had to keep reminding him I wasn't his CO, I was his equal here. But God, he learned quick," T.C. said softly. "Who could have believed… all that he's grown in such a short time…. he went from an Army medic to full on trauma doctor. And I got to watch that. I got to watch him grow up. It was like… it was like God took away my big brother and to make up for it, he gave me a little one," T.C. said, his voice thick. There were a million memories in his head right now, but just a single prayer, don't take my little brother.

Jordan smiled, through her tears, "after he hurt his hand he promised me no more competitive fights. Then, not even a month later, he came up to me and was all nervous," she laughed-cried at the memory, "and he was like, 'Jordan. I know I said no more fights, but the base is doing a fundraiser and some guys from my unit signed me up. If I back out now then I'm going to look like a punk…'"

T.C. laughed with Jordan, "what did you tell him?"

Jordan sighed, "I called him an idiot, but he looked so… he looked like a five year old asking for a cookie or something. I couldn't tell him no. I told him I better get tickets and he better win."

"He did win," T.C. said, remembering the fight. It had been an impressive one, Drew and his opponent had been evenly matched. In the end though, Drew had been just a little quicker.

"Yeah. He did. And he didn't break his hand that time either," she said, "he tried to promise never to do it again but I told him not to bother. Just… he's a fighter. That's what he does, it's how he's come so far…" a sob escaped her and her body shook. "Tee? Is he going to be strong enough for this? Can he fight through this?"

"I know he's going to try," T.C. answered, wishing he could give her a more reassuring answer. "Jordan, you know I don't have a lot of faith in things since… well, after Thad. But one thing I do have faith in is Drew. He's never let us down, he's never given up, and he's pulled through some major crap… I don't have a lot of things to hold onto, but if anyone can make a miracle, it's Drew."

Jordan sobbed softly but nodded. She pulled T.C.'s arm so that he held her tighter. All they had been through, and still no one made her feel as safe as him. "I thought I stopped believing in God when my dad died but I can't stop praying, Tee. And it feels so stupid, this whole thoughts and prayers bull shit, but I can't… I want my little brother home. That's all I can think of. I want him home."

"Me too… me too," was all he could reply.

-line-

6:45 AM

Rick blinked awake, his head feeling like it was full of cotton, his mouth too. He looked around him, confused for a moment until he recognized he was in a hospital room. For an almost blissful moment, he had no clue why he was in the hospital but that moment passed when he saw Topher sitting across from him. Their eyes met, and the older man gave him a tired smile, trying to be reassuring. It was a kind effort but it didn't help.

"Hey. You back with me?" Topher asked, his voice soft.

Rick nodded and rubbed his face, "how long was I out?"

"About eight hours. I had to give you a sedative, that's why you're groggy. Rough night," he said, and Rick could hear the roughness in his voice. Taking a closer look, he could see the red-rimed eyes and the suddenly aged look of his face. It was fear and grief as plain as day.

"I'm sorry," Rick sighed, bowing his head. He was mad at himself for falling apart so much that, even in his own shock, Topher was forced to take care of him. It felt like a selfish thing, breaking down while others had to function… like he was so damn useless.

"Hey," Topher called, almost snapped, "don't do that to yourself. You have every right to feel this… to be upset. And you don't have to apologize for it."

Rick took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He was so tired, so drained; he didn't have the ability to function right now. "I can't… how am I going to survive this? The waiting… not knowing anything… I mean…" he exhaled harshly, "if he was dead I could… I'd have an answer. But this… I don't know if I should hope for a miracle or plan for a funeral."

"Honestly? You should do both," Topher said, his voice soft. "I know that's not what you wanna hear, but… hoping that he will make it back, that they'll get to him in time, that's fine. That's good even, so long as you keep it realistic. You can't give yourself false hope, you've got to keep it in perspective."

"What perspective? I have no information," Rick snapped, angry. Topher didn't take it personally.

"Not right now, but in the days to come you will," he reassured.

"Days…" Rick laughed bitterly, "it's been less than twenty four hours and I'm already losing my mind. How the hell am I going to make it through days?"

"Well, for starters, you won't be doing it alone. I've already called my wife; you're coming over today. She and the girls are going to meet us for breakfast, we'll stop by your apartment so you can pack a bag, then you get to entertain three very energetic girls," Topher said.

Rick felt a wave of emotion wash over him at the support that he was being offered, but he shook his head. "Toph… I can't… I…"

"Doctor's orders, and I out rank you. Besides, you'd be doing me a favor. It's Saturday, if you distract my girls, I can get some sleep."

Rick laughed, a choked sound but a sincere one, "I don't have a choice, do I?"

"No. Not at all…" Topher said. "Come on. Shift is over. Let's go eat; we'll take everything else from there. Alright?"

Rick nodded taking the extended hand Topher held out to help him up. "Thank you," Rick said, sincerely. There was no relief from the onslaught of reality, no real reprieve, but at least he had a tether in the storm.


	8. Chapter 8

5:10 AM. Afghanistan.

They had whipped him until he blacked out. He hadn't been able to keep a count of the lashes, but it had been more than twenty-one. He had been 'revived' when his captors submerged his head into a bucket of dirty and cold water. He had come to in a complete panic, flailing and struggling, despite the fiery agony radiating from his back that any movement caused. He felt himself inhale the water, felt the gritty and foul tasting liquid choking him and settling in his lungs.

They had held him in the water for an eternity; his vision had been tunneling when they pulled him out. He had come up coughing and gagging, head throbbing horribly and the room spinning. He could hear several men laughing as he struggled to breathe. He could tell that there were two men holding him on his knees but he couldn't see anything. He had gotten three blessed seconds of air before they shoved his face back down into the bucket. The cycle was repeated two more times, and by the end of it he was limp and barely conscious. He really thought that this was how he was going to die. But someone had come in shouting excitedly and suddenly there had been a flurry of movement.

He had been unceremoniously dragged back to his closet and locked in. For a few minutes, he could hear a commotion outside, men shouting and moving in a frantic pace. Then there was weapons fire, closer than before but not close enough. His frazzled mind registered all this but it didn't comprehend. He lay in a heap, coughing and whimpering, body too broken to even make an attempt to move. He was laying in the dirt, exhausted, pain consuming him, and fading in and out of conscious. His wrists were still bound in front of him, and at some point his hands had gone numb. The swelling in face had distorted his vision, tunneling it. He could feel the water in his lungs, and his body would cough violently to try and eject the foul liquid. That only resulted in a roller coaster of agony as his back and his head fought for the top spot. His chest was coming in as a close second. Any movement, a cough or a shift in position or even breathing, was very near unbearable.

He had no sense of time anymore. It could have been minutes or hours he lay there, and that was hell. They had told him in basic, the most important thing if he ever got captured was to keep his sense of time. One of his instructors had even gone as far as said "shove your watch up your ass if you have to, but don't lose your watch." Well, he had never gotten the chance to hide his watch and it had been taken from him. With out it, locked in the closet with no window and his only source of light, a crack in the door, he had no idea _when_ he was. They way his body hurt, the way his head drifted, it could have been hours or days. Either way, it was starting to get to him; starting to drive him crazy.

Occasionally he became aware of weapons fire or hushed voices outside the door, but for the most part his mind just drifted. He couldn't hold onto a thought, so he couldn't even distract himself from his miserable state. There had been one solid moment of clarity, however. One brief time when he had come to full awareness. He had been startled awake by some kind of explosion, nothing too loud or grand. More of a low rumble in the distance like thunder. It had made him jerk; reigniting the fiery pain of his back and causing the torn flesh to start bleeding again. It had also started a coughing fit that had been so violent he vomited. That had only made his head and face began throbbing even more, mixing with the awful ach of his chest. In that moment, where he was so consumed by pain, he had wanted to die. He truly wanted to die.

The realization drew from him several choked sobs and a pathetic series of whimpers. If he had had the ability to cry, he would have but he was too dehydrated. The moment of weakness shamed him, and he was angry with himself for a moment. But he didn't have the energy to stay focused on that. As soon as the pain faded back into manageable levels, his mind was spacing again.

Currently, he was laying on his side in relative alertness. His breathing had begun to become labored and he could hear the wheezing which had woken him from his stupor. His head felt funny, the struggle to breathe making everything feel foggy. Weakly, he tried to sit up. He paid for the movement, the pain in his body making it impossible to move more than an inch. Groaning, he positioned his head in an attempt to better open his airway but he doubted it would do any good. Forcing himself to attempt to take slow and full breaths did little good as well because it was too agonizing and exhausting. He also felt his body start to shiver and briefly realized he had a fever. He didn't have the energy to care about that and try and ease his breathing though.

There was a sudden burst of weapons fire, very loud and very close. It nearly made him jump out of his skin. Fighting through the resulting ache and his surprise, Drew tried to bring the world around him into focus so he could figure out what was going on. He could hear yelling and more shots, but couldn't make sense of what was happening. The men that had been left inside the clinic were moving frantically, at least that's what it sounded like. He could hear excited voices and a lot of foot stomping.

Then something beautiful happened…. There was a sound of weapons fire right outside the clinic walls. Frantic shouting from the men inside the building followed it, and then something exploded. Not like a bomb kind of explosion, but maybe a flash bang. A flash of white light under the crack of door fed that theory. Then the most wonderful thing he had ever heard reached his ears; "Get down! Get down on the ground!"

He had no idea who was shouting the order. He didn't really care either. What made it beautiful was that it was English and, even better, an American accent. He thought he could cry from relief. Finding a second wind, he focused his mind and listened intently, waiting for the chaos to die down. He listened for several long minutes as the soldiers searched the building calling out their head count and ensuring the location was locked down. While that happened, Drew used the meager energy that the adrenaline rush gave him to reposition himself so one of his legs could reach the door.

As soon as there was a break in the action, he kicked the door as hard as he could, calling out in a raspy and choked voice, "here!" When no immediate response was heard, he followed it up with another two kicks, hoping he'd get their attention. He paused, listening to see if there was any change outside his cell. When he still didn't hear a response, he felt a wave of panic and despair wash over him. He fought back a sob and used up almost the last of his energy to kick the door again. He even managed to call out, "in here," before dissolving into a coughing fit.

This time, it worked. He heard heavy footsteps coming his way. In a matter of seconds, the door to his prison was being kicked and before he knew it, it opened. He groaned and tried weakly to shield his eyes from the beam of light that suddenly flooded in. But he didn't care about the new pain, because he had recognized the uniform of the soldier who was standing over him now.

"Medic!" He heard him call and then Drew felt hands reaching for him. On instinct, he jerked away, paying for the sudden movement in both a fresh wave of pain and another coughing fit.

"Jesus Christ…" he heard the soldier hiss, and then he yelled, "Where's my medic? And somebody radio command!" In a kinder voice, a quieter one, he said, "Hey there soldier, I'm not gonna hurt you. Just wanna get a look at your hands, okay? Get them free… What's your name?"

By now, Drew had managed to adjust to the light, and though his eyes were still swollen, he was finally able to see who was by him. It was a Sergeant, the name on his uniform read Jones. "Drew," he coughed out, "name's… Drew Alistair…"

"As in Captain Alistair?" Jones asked smiling with relief that Drew seemed to be coherent. "Our missing Doc?"

"Yeah…" he said and he was finding it hard to focus. His back was on fire again, head pounding, and the adrenaline was leaving his body. His vision was tunneling and he knew he wasn't going to be with it much longer. "It's hard to breathe," Drew said, clearly struggling to speak now, "they tried to drown me." He was too weak to register the look on the Sergeant's face, the mixture of horror and rage.

"It's over now," Jones said, trying to reassure the other. Trying to help him the only way he could, but being kind.

"Wha… what day is it?" Drew coughed out, head spinning.

"April twentieth. You've been missing just under two days," Jones replied.

"Two days," Drew coughed out, "just two days?" It was such a shock to him, such a surprise. It had felt so much longer locked in here… how could it have only been two days?

"You remember being taken?" Jones asked, cutting into his thoughts.

"They shot Jim-Jo," Drew managed to say before his body was shaken by a series of coughs.

"Yeah, but we found your guy. He's all right. We got him to base and we're getting you home. You're safe now. We've got you. Understand?"

"They made me treat their wounded… They'd hurt me if I couldn't save them…." Drew continued, not knowing why it was so important to tell the other. Not understanding that his training was taking over so his fevered mind didn't have to think. His head was spinning, his vision tunneling, and his chest was constricting with each breath now. The world was going dark on him.

"Don't worry about that. It's over now," Jones said fighting back the sudden flood of rage in his system. It didn't matter that he didn't know Drew personally, this was his fellow soldier, he wanted these bastards to pay. "We're getting you to base," he promised and he frowned when he saw Drew start to drift towards unconsciousness. "Hey Cap, I need you to stay with me? 'Kay? Medic's coming. Let me cut your hands free."

Drew blinked, coming out of his stupor a little and tried to respond, but all he could do was cough. He felt Jones reach for him, and he didn't flinch this time. His hands were restrained gently and then a moment later, the ropes fell away but Jones didn't let go. In a second it was clear why; when the blood flow started returned to normal, the throbbing sharp pain started. Drew groaned from the new pain and tried to clench his fists but his hands were too swollen. Then the muscle spasms started.

"I know it sucks. Sorry Cap," Jones apologized, "but with the blood returning… your wrist looks bad, like it's broken. I don't want you to hurt it more, okay?"

Drew felt a whole new wave of emotion. He had no idea how long it had been sense anyone had shown him any kindness. It was surprising how he wasn't prepared for that. He could feel his eyes burning, like he was going to tear up, and he tried to hide it.

"Hey Cap, it's alright. You're safe now. We're gonna get you home," Jones said seeming to sense Drew's state-of-mind. "They can't hurt you anymore."

Drew risked a nod to show his understanding, because he didn't trust his voice. He let out a shuddering breath that once again became another coughing fit. This time though, he seemed to lose control of his breathing. His eyes shot open as wide as they could, as he tried sucking in air, fighting desperately to breathe.

"Shit…" Jones snapped, "Where is my fucking medic?" He snapped as he reached out to Drew. "Sorry Cap, don't mean to hurt you but I gotta sit you up," he said, giving Drew a warning just moments before he manhandled him into a seated position. But the sudden movement, the change in his position, the trouble breathing, and his injuries all combined at once, hitting Drew like a ton of bricks. His body had reached its limits and he slumped forward, unconscious.

-line-

1:30 AM. San Antonio.

Rick smiled as he stared at the picture on his phone. It was his favorite picture of his boyfriend. It was of a half awake and half naked Drew, but that wasn't why it was his favorite. It was the look of him completely relaxed, and unguarded. He was smiling adorably up at the camera; eyes barely open and his face didn't have that hard set to it. He didn't have the responsibility or the stress of life or the fear… he wasn't punishing himself for other people's thoughts. He was just Drew, happy and content, enjoying a lazy moment with his boyfriend on a beach in Hawaii.

Rick stared at it with a sad smile on his face. He felt a few tears escape his eyes and wiped them away. It had been thirty-one hours since the phone call from the Major. Drew had been taken around 1500 hours, in Afghanistan's time zone that was almost forty-eight hours. Drew had been officially missing for almost forty-eight hours. He had been assumed a prisoner for thirty-four. How many hours before he would be assumed dead?

Rick pushed that thought from his mind. He shut his eyes and tried to focus on something else. Unfortunately what he saw was Drew… The first time they met at boot camp. The awkwardness he had felt around him because there was no way that the hottest guy in the unit was single or anything but straight. Then the night they first kissed and the surprise on Drew's face because apparently he had thought the same thing about Rick. Their first time having sex, when they were both home from their first tours and all that pent up tension, all those emotions, the need to be more than friends… The juxtaposition of Drew's personality when having sex compared to him normally. Sex was always an adventure and spur of the moment, but his normal behavior was always much more reserved and planned out.

There were also the small moments, the everyday ones, and these were the best kind. The stupid texts back and forth about nothing... The mock fights over stealing each other's clothes. Drew giving him cooking lessons… Rick teaching him how to fish, because Drew had always been more of a hunter... Camping, traveling, small stupid adventures, and Hawaii... The on going joke of sending each other house listings from there since they always seem to end up in Hawaii anyways.

Drew's face when he broke up with him….

Rick took a shuddering breath and forced his eyes open. He rubbed his eyes, and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He was in Topher's guest room. He had spent most of the day with the girls, playing with the twins and talking to Lynn. That had done some good for his head. So had spending time with Janet. She was able to help Rick make sense of what he was feeling because she had been there. He'd also called his parents, spoke to them both which helped. He'd even left a message for Drew's parents but didn't expect anything.

He was truly grateful for the compassion and understanding but it was now the quiet hours. He was just as alone as he had been before with nothing but his memories to comfort him. Little good they did now. Looking back at his phone, Rick swiped to another picture. This one was of him kissing Drew's check while he made a face. He stared at it, remembering that day and how happy they were… how happy he was.

"Damn it…" Rick hissed. Shoving the phone into the pocket of his sweatpants, he rolled himself out of bed. He couldn't lie in this room anymore; he needed fresh air. He grabbed his crutch so he wouldn't have to deal with the damn prosthetic leg and made his way downstairs. He headed for the back deck but stopped when he reached the den, seeing Topher.

"Hey," the doctor called softly when he saw Rick.

"Hey," Rick called feeling like he just got caught sneaking out. "I… uh… I needed air."

Topher shrugged and took a gulp of coffee, "I don't blame you. Want company?"

"Yeah, actually. That would be nice…" Rick said.

Topher offered a kind smile and lazily got to his feet. He lead the way through the kitchen taking a moment to refill his mug of coffee and pour Rick one. He got the door for them and they both breathed a sigh of relief stepping out. The air was cool for once and it was a welcome change to the stuffiness of the house. For a long moment they both stood, leaning against the deck railing looking out into Topher's backyard sipping coffee.

Then, Topher spoke in a hushed voice; "you know… you can't beat yourself for not being there, for not 'doing anything'. I mean that's just something the Army doesn't teach you. They give you everything you need, teach you everything they can to be able to do things, but they don't teach you that sometimes you can't do anything, and that it's okay. It's okay that you can't."

Rick shook his head, "I don't know if I can accept that. I don't think I can just wait."

"So what are you going to do? Hop a plane, fly to Afghanistan and look for him? I mean, it's a big country and there's a lot of people trying to kill each other over there," Topher said, and Rick bowed his head. "I know you feel like you fucked up and won't ever get a chance to make that right. I know it feels like you're stuck in place and are just holding your breath. I know what that feels like… when my dad died… there was a couple days we were in limbo. He was on a vent and the doctors were holding out hope… I was as helpless then as you are now. And I am telling you that, that is all right. You are not responsible for fixing this."

"So what do I do? What am I supposed to do? I was a soldier. I lead a unit into battles and right now I can't even face looking at a picture of my boyfriend. So what am I supposed to do?" Rick asked, voice shaking.

"Pray. Cry. Scream. Throw things, just not at people. Be angry. Be sad. But don't wallow. Don't surrender to it. Force yourself to look at those pictures and talk about those times you shared with him because you were happy. He was happy. And there is no better way to honor him than to remember him as happy. Of every one in his life, you got to see a whole side of him that was unique, special. Share that… just not the sex life. That's personal," Topher answered and it made Rick laugh.

"You sure? I mean there are some great stories…" Rick teased, despite himself.

Topher shock his hands, "yeah… no. He's like my brother and I do not want to think about him having sex."

Rick laughed softly then looked up at the sky. "I was going to ask him to marry me when he got back."

Topher smiled, "that's great… that's… after everything you both have gone through you deserve that happy ever after. And marriage life isn't bad, not at all…"

"But I don't know if he's coming back. I don't… I just want to know what's happening. I can't make a plan if I don't know what's going on."

"Yeah you can. You start with breakfast. Decide when you're going to wake up and what you're going to eat. The rest of the day can go from there. Right now it's okay to go moment to moment."

Rick nodded and was about to respond when his phone rang. He frowned and looked at Topher while fishing it from his pocket. "Who the hell is calling at two in the morning?" He mumbled and read the screen. His heart stopped beating when he saw the number on the screen. There was an instant where he didn't want to answer, where he was too afraid to know what news this would bring. But that passed with a blink of an eye and, heart in his throat, he answered.

"Rick, who is it?" Topher asked, seeing the other's face and growing concerned. Rick just looked at him wide eyed.

"Rick Lincoln," he said, shaking.

"Captain Lincoln, it's Major Jennings," came the quick answer. She sounded tired, but there was something in her voice… "I'm sorry to wake you."

"No… no, Ma'am, you didn't wake me. Major have you heard something?" He asked and he couldn't help but feel a flurry of hope. Topher also seemed to feel it; he had straightened and was watching Rick intensely.

"We found him. We _have_ him. He's been through a lot and he's in rough shape but we've got him," she said and now Rick knew what he heard in her voice, relief.

There were tears in his eyes, but this time they were happy. He let out a happy sob-laugh, and took several shaky breaths in. The feeling of relief almost made him giddy. "He's back? You have him? Can… can I talk to him?" He asked. Topher let out his own choked laugh, his face breaking into a smile.

"Unfortunately no," and here was where the relief died. "Drew has been…" her voice hitched, "he was tortured… he's stable but he's critical. He's not in a condition to talk to anyone right now… I'm sorry. I have to go, but I wanted to make sure you knew. We have him back. He's alive and he's stable. I'll give you an update as soon as I can."

"Thank you Major," Rick said, though all the joy had been sucked out of him. He stared blankly at Topher for a moment after the call ended.

"Rick? What is it? What's happened? Do they have him?" the other asked, feeling anxious.

"Yeah… yeah they, um… he's back. But… uh… he was tortured Toph. They tortured him and the Major said he was critical but stable. That's all she would tell me…" Rick said and he felt his eyes burning.

Topher inhaled sharply, the news felt like a gut shot or some cruel small print that said 'You can have him back, but only after we broke him.' For a moment Topher had a flashback to a desperate man pleading to be saved and his own pathetic helpless plea to "tell them what you know." He quickly locked that memory away, however, because it did no good right now.

"Okay… so, the important thing to focus on is that he's stable and at Bagram. That's good. Focus on that, alright?" Topher said.

Rick swallowed and nodded, "but they tortured him… Toph he already has PTSD…"

Topher put his hand on Rick's shoulder and gave it a squeeze. "Hey, don't go worst case scenario yet. You don't have enough information to go worst case. Just breath. Right now Drew is safe and he's being taken care of. Doctors always use words like critical to describe people's condition. Makes us look better when they recover quickly. Drew's safe, and that's a hell of a lot more than we had thirty seconds ago. That was what we were hoping for. Everything else can be handled and dealt with as it comes. We have him back."

Rick nodded and he let out a choked laugh. The relief was washing over him again. But it was much more measured this time. He had his answer. His prayers had been heard. It wasn't the perfect resolution he wanted, but he'd take it. He made a promise to be there when Drew got home, he planned to keep now more than ever.


	9. Chapter 9

1:00 PM. Bagram US Air Force Base.

Eight hours ago, she thought she was never going to see this man again. Now she was standing here trying to figure out how to keep him alive. The Sergeant that found him said initially Drew had been conscious and coherent enough to talk until his body went into respiratory distress. He had passed out shortly after a coughing fit, only responding to painful stimulation. When the field medic had arrived, Drew was coughing so violently he had started turning blue. The medic had managed to ease his symptoms with just an O2 mask, but now it was looking like she was going to have to intubate.

Drew had an upper respiratory infection that was quickly turning into pneumonia. Worst yet, there was water still in his lungs, significantly increasing his risk of dry drowning. She was monitoring his oxygen levels and airway closely. So far, his breathing was stable enough on just a rebreather. The hope was that the antibiotics would kick in before she had to vent him. She couldn't start diuretics yet, like she wanted to, because he was too dehydrated. And of course, there were the rest of his injuries.

The least serious were the stress fractures to both wrists. They just needed to be set properly and splinted. The swelling in his hands were going down already, and he didn't appear to have any permanent motor damage from the prolonged lack of circulation. Still, the rope burns, the bloody abrasions, and heavy bruising to his wrists made the minor injuries look worse. He had more bruising to his chest, ribs, and stomach that had gotten him some X-rays and an ultrasound. Good thing too because they found the broken rib and bruises to his right kidney. So, now she was monitoring his renal function but only as a precaution.

He was running a fever of 103, severely dehydrated, evidence of heat exhaustion, and his blood work was a mess. So was his face. He had a broken nose, which had to be set, and then packed because it began bleeding again. He also had a fracture to his supraorbital margin, basically his left eye socket. The right side of his head had a laceration that was too old to stitch, so now it had to be flushed and watched for infection. It was also going to leave a scar at his brow line. The bruising that spread out from around the laceration had earned Drew a CT scan, which confirmed a moderate concussion.

The worst, and ugliest, of his injuries were to his back. His back looked like minced meat. The flesh was welted, torn, and horribly bruised. It was near impossible to determine the exact amount of lashes Drew had received, and she had stopped counting at seventy. At least half of them had been deep enough to be lacerations, all of which were infected. In fact, when he had first arrived there had been a coating of blood, some dried and some fresh, mixing with puss. The rest of the welts just looked horrible, and painful.

There was also, of course, the unknown factor of Drew's mental state. He had been unconscious since arriving and was showing no indication of waking up anytime soon, but he was only asleep. Since getting oxygen, he had become more responsive and she was less concerned about coma and traumatic brain injuries. She had no doubt he was just exhausted, and now that he didn't have to be on alert, his body was just giving into rest. Still, she was scared of what would happen when Drew woke up.

She had no doubt he'd be anxious, or even panicked at first. In fact, she expected him to be combative and confused. What she was hoping for, her best-case scenario, was that Drew would quickly orient to location and self. Anything else would be varying levels of bad. A confused state of mind could be anything from brain injuries to psychological problems and she just couldn't watch him go through that. Not Drew.

"Major," Ugh said, voice low as he walked up to her with a coffee.

"Is that for me Lieutenant?" She asked, a tired smile on her face. She was standing in Drew's room, reading over his chart and checking his latest vitals and labs.

"Nah, it's for the Captain. You know how he gets when he doesn't have it… but you might as well drink it since Sleeping Beauty don't seem to be awake," Ugh was trying to joke. He was trying to be up beat, hopeful, and offer the only kind of comfort he could. Syd appreciated the effort, even if she could tell how worried he was.

Taking the coffee, she gave him a grateful but tired smile. "Thanks," She said and took a drink. "What's on your mind?"

"Just checking on him…" Ugh said but sighed dramatically when Syd gave him that 'uh-huh' look.

"I was speaking to a couple of the soldiers who found him," he started again. "From what they could gather from the Taliban they caught and Drew himself… they made him treat their wounded. They whipped him as punishment because one of them died," Ugh said, a dark look on his face.

"Jesus…" Syd hissed, angry. The unfairness of the act, the cruelty, it was beyond reason. "He's a doctor, not a god. You want someone to live take them to a hospital, not make an injured man do it."

"Or better yet, don't fucking bomb your own people and you won't get hurt," he growled out.

"You know what sucks too? He probably did everything he could for them, regardless of the situation, and they still… God I hate people," Syd shook her head, the mama bear in her showing.

Ugh's anger was plain as day on his face until he looked at Drew. That was when his face softened and his eyes moved back and forth between the man and the monitors.

"He's holding steady. His labs show some improvement. Still early, but it's better," Syd commented.

"What about the infection?" Ugh asked.

"You mean infections? Clearly his lungs are the big worry, but his back's a mess." Syd answered. "IV antibiotics are in and working. When his fever breaks, it'll help. It's a waiting game."

"He's breathing really hard," Ugh said, watching his friend. It was true, the wheezing was audible and the work his body was doing was clear.

"His O2 is steady at ninety-six," Syd assured.

"That's the low end of acceptable, Major, the very low end. Most places would have put him on a vent by now, especially with the respiratory and airway threats," Ugh observed, trying to be casual. He was dangerously close to questioning his superior, which many officers could be offended by. Not Syd, to her, Ugh was a highly trained, highly experienced nurse looking out for the welfare of his patient and friend.

"I know. It's risky, but the longer we keep him off the vent, the lower his risk of damaging his lungs. The more we force his body to depend on itself, the quicker he'll beat this and the healthier his respiratory system will be," she defended.

Ugh nodded, quiet for a moment as he watched Drew. "He's exhausted Major. I know you can see that…" he breathed out harshly shaking his head, "What's the other reason you don't want to vent him? The real one, not the official."

Syd sighed, "If I vent him he goes to Germany. No if, ands, or buts, straight to the ICU. If we can stabilize him without the vent than I can justify sending him back home to Texas."

"Would that be so bad? Sending him to Germany? I mean, he'd be stuck there for a little while, but is it the worst thing?" Ugh asked.

"Physically? No. Honestly, it probably is a good option. But for his mental well-being? I don't think he'd be able to handle that. I think for his mental health he'd be better off in Texas. He won't be alone in Texas," she said.

"His family would be flown out to Germany. He wouldn't be alone," Ugh came back, playing devil's advocate.

Syd shook her head, "from what he's told me about his family, about his dad in particular, I don't think they would go. I think who he considers family, more importantly Rick, are all in Texas. I do know, however, that Rick wouldn't be able to see him in Germany. They won't let him on base without next of kin's permission and his family wouldn't give that. I just… the thought of Drew being alone in some hospital room… Or what if his parents did fly out? Wouldn't that be worse, being around people who rejected him? Especially after what he's gone through…" She had to force herself not to become emotional.

Ugh nodded, and even gave he a small side smile, "I'm glad we agree Major."

She shook her head, "You were just testing huh?"

Ugh nodded, "Yeah. I just want to make sure we do right by him. I know you docs are all about saving lives, sometimes you forget about the person. Just wanted to make sure."

Syd gave him a small smile as she took another sip of coffee. Most doctors would have been offended, but like she knew from the start, Ugh was just looking out for his friend.

-line-

3:20 PM.

Everything was foggy; his head, his vision, his memories, even his body. It all seemed like he was floating, but also not. His head felt like it was in space, but his body felt like it was encased in concrete. There was also the extremely odd sensation of being in pain without actually feeling pain. He drifted for a while, trying to find his way out of the foggy mess. He didn't have the energy to force himself back to clear skies, so his senses were returning to him slowly.

First it was sounds; a steady beeping, staticky white noise, the hum of a fan, footsteps… none of these were sounds he remembered hearing before. He also noticed the air was warm, dry, and not suffocating. He wasn't lying on the floor anymore either. While he wasn't exactly comfortable, he wasn't bound or choking on dirt so that was a bonus. His skin also didn't feel caked in anything anymore. Like he had been washed, which was weird. His wrists felt funny though, stiff and restrained but yet not. He also felt chilled, and achy.

He was aware of a burning pain along his back, but it was like there was a barrier between his brain and skin. He could sense it, but it didn't register. He was also well aware of how awful his chest felt, but he couldn't seem to figure out what to do about it. All the other pain he was supposed to be feeling also began announcing themselves in that abnormal detached way. His head and face hurt, his nose felt stuffed up like he had a cold, and his body felt battered. He tried to open his eyes, but he was so exhausted and it was so hard. He wanted to see what was around him, wanted to understand the changes he sensed, but he just didn't have the energy.

So he drifted, hoping he could find his way out of the fog without effort. It wasn't working exactly how he hoped for. While he was becoming more aware and alert, so to speak, whatever was shielding him from the pain was getting weaker. He was becoming more agitated, more frustrated. The chills that had made him ache before had now disappeared. Now his skin felt like it was on fire and he was dosed in sweat. His muscles still ached and now shivered and cramped. The conflicting feelings of his skin burning but his muscles shivering were so infuriating. He also tasted a dry copper powder in the back of his throat. The pain that had been known was now being felt and it made his brain scream.

His breathing was getting worse; his chest felt like it had a boulder in it. It hurt so much to get air in and it felt like every time he exhaled he would cough. It didn't help that he could only breathe through his mouth because his nose was so stuffy. Making everything worse was his near inability to open his eyes. Not only was it painful to open them, but all he had were slits to attempt to see through. That made his vision blurry and tunneled, and whatever light was in the space with him was blinding. It hurt and so he had basically just given up trying. Besides, it seemed to help with his head, keeping his eyes closed. It made the funny feeling less ominous.

At least it did for a little while. The sounds that had been new and interesting were now annoying at best and frightening more often than not. As the fog in his head cleared, he started have vague memories of hands grabbing him, dragging him… hurting him. When he moved and his back sent a wave of pain through him, he could hear an awful sharp 'thunk' sound mixed with laughter and a scream. When footsteps sounded close, his body went rigid thinking they were coming for him. He couldn't stop the anxious feelings from growing, warping into a horrible pain in his head.

And now there was a damn frantic high-pitch beeping cutting into his skull, drilling into his brain. The obnoxious sound brought with it the panic inducing echo of footsteps; a lot of them, all coming towards him. Then there were voices and his brain was so disjointed that he didn't understand anything being shouted around him. They sounded angry though. He felt them reach for him, just like before. He felt them pulling at him and his only thought was 'not again' before the fever in his body consumed his mind.

-line-

5:40 PM

Syd Jennings was bound and determined not to leave this room until her patient woke up. Not after the near heart attack he had given her. Just over two hours ago, Syd had been paged while on rounds to the heart-stopping scene of Drew seizing. A million and one worst-case scenarios flew through her mind as she barked commands and pushed diazepam. Even with the drug on board, the seizure lasted for almost two minutes. She had watched the monitors, heart in her throat, as the convulsions shook Drew's already abused body. Once they stopped, was when the real panic began. EEGs, MRIs, blood tests, even a lumbar puncture was ordered. She was almost convinced that he had a hematoma or a brain bleed. When those were ruled out, oxygen depletion or maybe meningitis had been contracted, but those too were ruled out. Everything was, and that was when she realized that Drew's fever had climbed to 106 before the seizure, according to the nurse who had come to check him, and was now back down to ninety-nine.

He had had a febrile seizure. They were almost never seen in adults, which was probably why she didn't catch it right away. However, given all the stress his body had been under, the infections, the chest congestion, the combined traumas, and fever… it made sense. His brain had checked out and decided to reset. A hard reboot to help get his body back on track, and it actually seemed to be helping. The nurse had said he was showing signs of waking up before the seizure but now… His fever had broken, the bedding and his clothes had had to be changed due to the sweating. Also, the fact he reopened a few of the wounds on his back. His breathing was still of concern, but there seemed to be less wheezing and she had been able to start him on the diuretic which would help with the fluid still in his lungs. Though he had a very long road to recovery, it would appear that Drew was turning a corner.

Currently, he was tossing and turning in his sleep, mumbling something she couldn't understand. He was responding to his name somewhat, turning his head towards the voice. He could follow simple commands like, "squeeze my hands". He was almost there, but seemed reluctant to actually open his eyes. She didn't blame him; this was probably the most sleep he'd gotten since being over here. However, she really needed him to wake up.

She had called his parents and given them an update. Well, his mother really. She had been the only one of Drew's family Syd had spoken to. While she seemed genuinely concerned, the conversations she had with his mom didn't feel the same as the ones with Rick. Where the woman seemed guarded in her concern, Rick was more open. It just went to strengthen her resolve of doing what she could to get Drew to Texas.

Although, thinking of Rick, she looked at the wall. It would be about 0820 in San Antonio right now. Rick probably would be eager for an update. It was time to break the rules again… Technically, she wasn't supposed to be calling Rick with updates as he wasn't next of kin. But if nobody knew, then nobody could care. Besides she didn't think Drew would object. Pulling out her satellite phone, Syd dialed the number she had for Rick. She'd gotten it from Drew's bunkroom. She felt a little guilty for going through his belongings, though she was fairly certain it would be forgiven. As the phone connected, Drew was racked with another coughing fit and it made Syd wince in sympathy. It was a short-lived fit and the cough was deep, barking, and productive. Good signs, all things considered, but it just sounded painful.

"Rick Lincoln," came a tired voice. She felt bad for the young man; he was running the gambit of the world's worst emotions and in such a short amount of time. The roller coaster was clearly draining him.

"Captain Lincoln," she greeted, trying to sound more reassuring than she had in the past. "I have some news for you."

"Uh… hang on a moment please," he said to her and she could hear children in the background. "Toph," he said, voice muffled, "I'll be right back." Then, after a moment, he came back to her and said, "sorry Ma'am. I've been staying with a friend and his family."

"I understand Captain," she said smiling, she was happy he wasn't going through this alone.

"How's Drew?" He asked, and she heard him hold his breath.

She looked over at the young man who was growing more restless and almost laughed. He seemed to have realized someone was nearby and almost seemed annoyed at the talking. "He's had a rough few hours, and he's been keeping us on our toes," she answered.

"How… how bad is rough?" Rick asked and she realized she never gave the man any details other than the bare bones. The poor guy had no idea what was going on.

"Right… let me start by assuring you he's no longer critical. He's in serious condition, but compared to when he was first brought in he's doing so much better. Okay?"

"Yeah…" Rick breathed out, not from relief but more to brace himself. "So, what happened to him?"

Syd gave Rick a run down of Drew's injuries, sticking as close to the facts as she could. She left out some of the more gruesome details knowing Rick didn't need to know them. He didn't need to picture his boyfriend's torn and welted back or the swelling of his face. He'd see it for himself soon enough as it was. She did however give him a clearer view of just what Drew had gone through. When she was done, she gave him a moment to gather himself. It was a lot to take in, and she was impressed the man didn't seem to be cutting and running. Then again, he was a Ranger, and they weren't known for retreating.

He took a deep breath and said, "I know he's still out, but do you have any indication of his mental state?"

"When he was found he was responsive and oriented. Anything else is going to have to wait until we can reassess him. There's too many unknowns until he wakes up," Syd said, wishing she could give a better answer.

"He… He has PTSD… well, acute stress disorder... from his previous tours. It's not debilitating, he manages it with therapy and has never been medicated," Rick was stammering, nervous. She understood why too, the stigma of mental illness and needing to 'suck it up' was big in the service. Many soldiers thought it would get them discharged instantly so they tried to hide it. That simply wasn't true, there was a difference between being functional and incapacitated.

"I know, Captain. I'm his C.O., they had to tell me. Trust me, we're going to take care of him. We'll assess him and start treatment accordingly. That's the best I can offer right now. I'm sorry."

"No… no. I understand. I appreciate everything you've done. I know I'm not exactly supposed to be called…. I appreciate it. I just…" he took a gulp of air, "when do you expect him to be moved to Germany?"

"He's not going to be, I mean, as long as he doesn't develop any complications. The plan is to send him to San Antonio," she said and could almost feel the relief at the other end of the line.

"Sending him back here? That… that's…" Rick started, a laugh in his voice.

"It's going to be best for Drew. It's also going to take a couple days to get him stabilized for the transport. I need to make sure he doesn't develop any kind of complications. Okay?" She said this firmly, bringing Rick back to reality.

"Yes Ma'am. I understand. Thank you," Rick said.

"Don't thank me until he's home. Have to go now. I'll call with updates as soon as I can," she said waiting for the acknowledgement before hanging up. She looked back over at Drew who had begun a series of closed eyed blinks. It wasn't going to be long before he woke up, she could tell. Shaking her head, she settled back in for the home stretch.

-line-

08:33 AM. San Antonio.

Rick came back to the breakfast table where he, Janet, and Topher had been sitting. The two looked at him expectantly, waiting for the update. Looking at them he couldn't keep the smile off his face, the relief was too strong.

"He's no longer critical. Major said, pending any complications, they're sending him directly state side, right to San Antonio. She's hoping with in the next few days," Rick filled them in.

"Hey! That's great!" Topher said as Janet cheered.

Then the smile faded from Rick's face, "he hasn't woken up yet though, and he…." Rick took a deep breath looking at his hands for a moment to gather his thoughts. "He's got a lot to recover from."

"Yeah, but at least he's going to be where his people can get to him," Janet said. She took Rick's hand and gave it a squeeze. "Tell is what the Major told you. We'll start trying to figure out what to do next, okay?"

Rick took another breath, grateful once again for the support, and began at the top.

-line-

10:00 PM, Bagram Air Force Base.

Drew had woken up shortly after 1800. It had not been a hallmark moment where the hero returns from the brink of death to the loving arms of his family. No this was painful and frightening. He had woken up disoriented and confused from the fever. For several very horrible minutes, he had no idea where he was or that he was safe. The hospital staff had nearly been forced to restrain him before he finally started to recognize the people around him and calm down. The whole episode had lasted less than ten minutes but it had done a number on him.

He had managed to reawaken the burning pain in his back as well as reopen a couple of the lacerations. His lungs, still weak, set off several coughing fits that left his already aching chest tight. He also had several episodes of vomiting, which was something that his exhausted body didn't need to go through. His head throbbed horribly and his face hurt. His nose also had the horrible feeling of pressure and congestion only with the embarrassing knowledge that it was packed. The last bit of fever still had him chilled and achy. His wrists being splinted and hands still swollen made him feel helpless. There was nothing anybody could do for the pain except give him Tylenol, which did little to zilch. He was so bone tired but also so very restless and his mind was no longer blocking the very vivid memories that were a jumbled mess inside his head.

Miserable, he stared at the tray of food he was expected to eat. He was glad he couldn't smell it, because it looked disgusting and he was sure the combined scent and visual would make him vomit again. He was listening to all the activity around him, though there wasn't much. Syd had ensured he was in a more secluded part of the ward, mostly for security. No one had known what he would do when he woke up because of his history of PTSD. Being as smart as she was, Syd had planned for worst case scenario and just assumed Drew would wake up in a full on dissociative episode. Keeping him away from other patients and in an easily locked down area would just be the safest thing. Luckily, he wasn't dissociating, just disoriented; now that he knew where he was, he wasn't a threat to anyone.

So the sounds outside his room were distant foot traffic, the loudspeaker paging personnel, the monitors he was still hooked up to, and the occasional conversation that drifted his way. Half the sounds he was hearing should have been background noise and naturally filtered out by his brain. He shouldn't be able to hear the nurse giving an update to a doctor. He should be able to tell the difference between a faucet dripping or his IV drip. He shouldn't be tracking the casual footsteps of people just walking by… Hyper vigilance was part of life with PTSD and he knew that. It accompanied the majority of his episodes. He just didn't want to have one now, not here. Not alone.

Hell, he didn't even want to be alone. As pathetic as it sounded to him, he wanted someone to be there, holding his hand or holding him, telling him that the monster wasn't real. He had been able to have a short conversation with his mother earlier, though it had been painful to talk. It had helped; her voice had eased some of the fear making him feel that he wasn't so alone. But that reassurance was fading in the wake of isolation. Being so far removed from the flow of the hospital, it was like he was being locked away again or punished. But here was the kicker, the thought of being close to people made him tense in a way that was similar to panic attacks. The idea that someone was so close to him while he was so vulnerable was not one he could handle and he had no doubt it would just make everything worse.

The sounds of approaching footsteps reached him and he snapped his head to the door. His eyes were as wide as they could be, his body tensed, and he felt his heart speed up. He could tell whoever was coming was male, by the way the boots hit the tile, and they weren't hurried. He had no reason to believe they were coming to hurt him, but his mind still heard the sounds of boots stomping the floor outside his 'prison' door.

"Hey Cap, you in there?" Ugh called voice friendly and at ease, "you still awake?"

Drew forced out the breath he was holding attempting to relax. Ugh was still walking down the hall when he announced himself. He knew he was doing it purposely, making noise to warn him, and Drew was grateful. "I'm up," Drew called out and cringed. His voice was still hoarse and his throat still felt raw, and with his nose packed he sounded congested.

"Good," Ugh said as he entered the makeshift room. "Cause I got ya something." The Lieutenant had a mischievous smile on his face as he looked around making sure no one was near. It was then that Drew noticed the satellite phone in his hand and he frowned in confusion. Ugh raised the phone back to his ear and said, "alright Sir, gonna put you on speaker. Give me a sec to step back out." Ugh than pressed a button on the phone and set it on the tray stand next to Drew's plate. "Right… I'll be back in a few," he said as he walked out and now Drew was all kinds of confused.

He stared at the phone for a moment unsure if he should say something. He had no idea who could be on the other line. Just as he was about to say something, however, the other person beat him to it. "Drew?" came Rick's voice and instantly, he felt tears in his eyes.

He choked them back, refusing to cry despite the overwhelming relief and sense of security that now filled him. "Rick?" he managed to say, though it was accompanied by a cough.

"Hey! You recognize me. That's a start," Rick said using the same greeting he always did when one of them came back from traveling, training, or deployment. He was trying to tease him, but Drew could hear the choke in the other's voice.

"It's really good to hear your voice," Drew forced out, taking deep breaths to help stave off the pending coughing fit and his emotions.

"I don't even think I could explain how mutual that feeling is…" Rick took a shuddering breath and let it out, trying to force a laugh. "How ya doing? Really?" he asked, voice so damn soothing.

Too damn soothing, Drew couldn't fight his emotions any longer. A small sob forced its way out and he had to inhale deeply which triggered a coughing fit. He managed to get his breathing back under control quickly, though his chest ached and his voice was now hoarse and wispy. "Well… there's that…" he managed to joke and Rick even laughed a little. "I'm…" and Drew paused here because he wanted to reassure Rick that everything was fine. He wanted to lock down so hard on what he was feeling, what he was going through, and pretend that it never happened but he just didn't have the strength. Not here, not now. Besides this was Rick, he could never lie to Rick. "I'm not okay," he said, and he felt the tears start to fall, "I'm just not okay."

"Well, the good news is," Rick said in a voice that was still choked, "you don't have to be. Not yet and not always. But I promise you; you also don't have to be alone. You're coming home Drew, and I'm going to be right there with you."

That was the best thing Drew had ever heard.


	10. Chapter 10

3 days later. 8:20 PM. Bagram US Air Force Base

It was his last day in country. In fact, in less than two hours, he and several other wounded soldiers were being moved from the hospital to a military controlled airport. From there, he'd fly into Fort Worth and then be transported to Fort Huston where he was being admitted to San Antonio Military Medical Center. The flight state side would be about sixteen hours; the flight to San Antonio would be about an hour. In less than twenty-four hours he would be almost home. Almost, because home would be when he was in his own apartment. When he could hide away from the Army, the world, and all the nightmares of this tour. Home would be where Rick was waiting. Still Fort Huston was a start. He just wished he knew how long he would have to stay there.

While he had had some improvements over the last seventy-two hours, he'd also had some setbacks. His nose had stopped bleeding and was unpacked, much to his relief. The swelling in his hands had also significantly reduced and he wouldn't have to have hard casts for the fractures. The lacerations had finally scabbed over deep enough that they didn't split open when he moved, but that was about the last of the good news.

The effects of the concussion were still lingering. He had episodes of vertigo and a persistent headache. His left eye was still swollen almost shut and there was possibly damage to the eye. Until the swelling went down, they wouldn't know for sure. His respiratory infection had indeed become pneumonia, and his oxygen levels were still worrisome. His fever was back too, though not as severe. Then of course, there was the psychological damage.

He had already given a statement and gone through a debriefing, despite the Major's protests. Besides the fact that Drew had had to recount, in detail, what he could remember of the events that had transpired from capture to rescue, he had also had to answer a series of legal questions. Drew was an Army Officer who had rendered aid, while under duress, to the enemy, the questions were part of an official inquiry, and he had had a representative of the JAG Corps there as his advocate. The lawyer assured him that this was a formality and there was no serious consideration of charges given the nature of events, but the Army did have to investigate. The formality of it all was intimidating.

"Hey Captain, you awake?" The Major asked, coming into his room.

Drew stirred from his thoughts, managing to give her a small smile. "Mostly," he replied weakly. "Just had a neb treatment, not helping the vertigo."

"Probably not, but full sentences are useful," she replied, "and coughing fits are bad." Syd looked over Drew's chart, quiet for a moment as she read the latest notes. "You're blood gasses aren't looking great but they're better. How's your head?"

"Better. Vertigo too, over all, I could walk today. Well, until I fell," Drew answered.

"Progress is still progress," she said, amused, "I wanted to talk to you again about being sedated for the flight."

"I still don't want it," he said, "I don't want to deal with the complications."

Syd sighed and shook her head. Having a doctor as a patient was always a pain in the ass. "Drew, the pain and the discomfort from the flight are going to hurt you a lot more than the very minimal risks. You're still on O2 and there will be BiPAP available. Hell, if it really comes down to it, you'll have another doctor there who can intubate. But going through that flight, the pressure changes will make your head hurt worse and your chest."

"Waking up halfway through the flight not knowing what's going on would be so much worse," Drew said, his voice small, head hung. He looked like he was ashamed.

Syd nodded, understanding now why he was refusing the drugs. "You're worried you're going to have a flashback?" She asked and Drew didn't respond. "You have been having flashbacks, in the hospital, haven't you?"

Drew sighed, "small ones. Not anything… just small ones."

Syd nodded, she wanted to curse. This was exactly why she didn't want him to go through the debriefing so soon. "Alright. I get it. I don't like it and I think you're going to regret it, but I get it," she said, sinking into a chair. Sighing, she stretched out and looked over at Drew. "You okay? I mean… you're not. But going home, you okay?"

Drew was still for a long moment trying to figure out how he felt. He was miserable, sick, hurt, and terrified to close his eyes. He was frustrated with his body and the circumstances he found himself in. He was relieved that he was making it home and excited to see Rick. But he also felt like he was being punished and that he was abandoning his team. "I don't want to be here anymore. I'm glad the tour is over and I'm alive," He inhaled sharply here and coughed several times before continuing, "but I feel like I'm walking away. Like I'm taking an easy way home."

Syd snorted, "oh believe me Drew, there is nothing easy about what you're going through."

He nodded, almost smiled, but couldn't quite get his face to cooperate. "I just feel like I'm being punished, or like I screwed everything up… I mean… you should be the one going home, not me."

"Don't do that to yourself. You don't deserve that. This isn't your fault," She said softly.

"But Riley's birthday is coming up and-"

"And it will not be the first one I missed. I spoke to Riley and she understands. She's not happy but she's not angry or devastated either. In fact, she was more concerned about you than she was about her birthday," Syd said.

Drew gave a small smile and tried to hide the tears that were threatening to fall. "She's a good kid," he said.

"The best," Syd said, a proud smile on her face.

"But it's not her I'm worried about. It's you. I know how much you wanted to be home…" he continued.

"Yeah. I did. And yeah, it sucks. Want to know what would've sucked more?" She said, solemn, "if I had, had to write your parents a letter. _That_ would have sucked more. I have to stay three months. You had thirty-eight hours of hell. I think I'm making out better. So don't you dare be sorry. Don't you dare put that guilt in your head. I don't care about staying because you're still alive. Got it?"

Drew managed to smile, even though it meant he couldn't stop a few tears from slipping out. "Yes Ma'am," he said with a laugh that turned into a coughing fit.

Syd just rolled her eyes, "don't ma'am me. I'm off duty…." There was a pause as Drew continued coughing for just a minute longer. When he was done, Syd continued. "Do me a favor, when you're state side?"

"Yeah," Drew choked out, still recovering.

"I have a present for Riley, just something I got her at one of the markets, would you take it to her? She wants to meet you," Syd asked and this time she was the one fighting back tears.

"Yeah… I'd love to," Drew responded, without hesitation.

"Thanks," she sighed. "So, when you're finally out of the hospital, what's the first Bar-B-Q place you're going to hit up?"

Drew's laughter may have turned into yet another coughing fit, but at least the mood in the room had become more relaxed.

-line-

21 and half hours later. 7:00 PM, San Antonio

Despite the fact that he was seated in a relatively comfortable waiting room, that was designed to be calming, his heart was racing. He was leaning forward, elbows on his legs, head resting on his knuckles, apparently at ease except that in reality he was so tense it hurt. His stomach was tied in knots and churning so much that it not only ached but he was convinced he was going to vomit. His damn palms were even sweating.

Hearing footsteps, he looked up, breath catching, but he was quickly disappointed when the person just walked by him. Rick had been in the waiting room of the medical center's ICU Step-down floor for about two hours. Drew had made it to the hospital about 1630 hours. Major Jennings had pulled some strings to have Rick listed as Drew's patient advocate so he had been notified when he arrived. Now he was just waiting for them to allow him back. This was going to be his first time actually being able to see his boyfriend in almost a year. It wasn't the homecoming he had planned on, not even close, but it was finally happening. He just hoped that Drew was going to be in a condition or mood to be seen.

"Captain Lincoln?" someone called getting Rick's attention.

He straightened up, looking for the man who called him and saw him in the doorway. He was a tall and thinner man, close to thirty and wearing scrubs. Standing, he replied, "retired. But yeah, that's me."

The other man smiled and nodded, extending his hand. "Lieutenant Ryan. I'm the over night nurse for Captain Allister. Captain Souter, his doctor, said it's all right if you want to come back. Unfortunately you can't stay too long, visitor hours are almost up."

Rick shook the other man's hand and nodded, a tired smile on his face. "I get it. I'm just happy I get to see him…"

"Yeah. I'll bet. Had a bit of a rough tour, huh?" Ryan said, leading the way to Drew's room.

"Well, it wasn't a vacation… how is he?"

"Hell of a lot tougher than me but paying for it. He made the transport without sedatives and minimal pain relief. First thing we had to do when he got here was give him some codeine. We also had to give him a breathing treatment. He's gonna be a little loopy so don't expect much. Okay?"

Rick swallowed back his nervousness and nodded, "Yeah. Gotcha."

The pair arrived outside a room, and Ryan hesitated. "Have you seen him since he was injured? I mean like Skype or anything?"

"No, just spoke to him," Rick replied, anxious.

"Okay. So… he's got some facial fractures and a lot of bruising and swelling around his eyes. It looks bad. Lot of bruises, lot of swelling but that's it. Just remember, none of it's permanent."

Rick could only nod, not trusting himself to talk. He felt like he was about to walk out into a skirmish. Ryan did his best to give him a reassuring smile, and pointed to the door he said, "Just announce yourself before going in, he may be a little jumpy. I'll come get you when visiting hours are over."

Rick took a deep breath as the Lieutenant walked away, taking a moment to calm himself. Then, knocking on the door lightly, he pushed it open. The room was as cozy as a hospital room could be and dimly lit. Drew was sitting up in the bed, with an IV and monitor hooked up. Just as Ryan warned, he looked awful. The bruising was around both eyes with an ugly black, purple, and green mash up of colors. The skin that wasn't bruised was pale except for the fever spots. Rick could hear the Drew's breathing and while it didn't sound 'bad', he also knew he wasn't supposed to be able to hear it. But, all that aside, there were a pair of sleepy brown eyes locked on him and they were the most wonderful things he'd ever seen.

"Drew?" He called, voice choked and he couldn't stop the stupid smile from gracing his face anymore than he could the tears.

"Hey… ya recognize me…" he mumbled, voice hoarse, a tired smile appearing.

Rick shut the door softly, not sure if he wanted to laugh or cry. All he was sure of was that he couldn't cross the room fast enough. Reaching Drew, however, he was suddenly unsure of what to do or what would be okay. He wanted to touch him, kiss him, hold him, just anything to confirm that he was really there but he didn't know what would be comfortable for Drew. He didn't know just how 'jumpy' he was.

So he started simply, Rick reached for his hand and laughed softly when saw Drew reaching for his. Mindful of the splint and the fractures, Rick gently interlocked his fingers with the other's before leaning in and kissing the top of his head. "I don't think I can tell you how happy I am to see you," Rick said, emotion choking his voice as he pressed his forehead to the top of Drew's head.

Drew was leaning into Rick, head pressed to his chest, heart racing. He wanted to be able to hold the other, to have him pressed against him so that all he could feel was his warmth. Sadly, given the current circumstances, the best he could do was bury his face in his chest. "I can guess," Drew replied in an equally choked voice.

Rick shifted, sitting on the edge of the bed. Just as gentle as before, he pulled Drew close to him, hugging him carefully. Drew in turn, wrapped his arms around Rick, face still buried in his chest. Rick placed a hand on the back of Drew's neck, head bowed and resting on his shoulder. For a very long moment, neither man moved, just needing to hold each other. Then, Drew started to tremble.

"Hey, it's okay. You're alright now," Rick soothed, kissing his head. "I promise, this is real." He felt Drew nod, but there was no other reply. Rick straightened, shifting Drew so he could see his face, or at least attempt to. The other man didn't seem to want to look at him.

"Hey, come on now," Rick said and carefully lifted Drew's chin so that he could look at his face, "what's going on? What's wrong?"

Drew looked into Rick's eyes, captivated for a second, and in that second the storm of emotions in his head calmed, but only for a second. Everything was still so fresh, so vivid, in his head. Less than seven days ago, he had been bound and locked up in some closet, begging God not to die. Now he was home, safe, and the man he loved was holding him. His mind couldn't catch up. He hadn't even recovered from the physical effects of the last week, how the hell was he going to deal with the horror show in his head. And that was just the last part of his tour. What about everything else he'd seen and gone through? If he didn't know what to do with himself, how the hell would Rick?

"I… I can't…" he hated how hoarse and choked his voice sounded. Hated how lost and confused he was. Hated the look of worry and concern in Rick's eyes, especially since he was the cause of it. Mostly he hated himself. He suddenly had the overwhelming feeling that he should leave. He shouldn't be here with Rick. He was drowning and if he went down he didn't want to take the other with him.

"Drew. Breathe. Slow deep breaths, come on," Rick ordered, breaking through the other's thoughts. Drew hadn't realized it, but he had started to hyperventilate. Rick watched him until he was satisfied that the other was calming down before he continued. "Don't do that to yourself. Don't let your mind over think right now. I know you, and I also know where your head is going. Mine went there too. Don't do that to yourself, okay?"

Drew nodded, and he closed his eyes in hopes he could keep from crying. He couldn't handle anything right now. He was too edgy, too overwhelmed, and felt like shit. "I don't even know how to start fixing what's wrong," he finally said, and in a much smaller voice he added, "and I'm scared…"

Rick pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him again and letting the other bury his face in his chest again, as much as his broken nose would allow. "We're gonna take it a day at a time. Okay? A day at a time, and I won't let you face it alone." He felt Drew nod and then kissed his neck. The rest of the time he was there, Rick spent talking softly, not really about anything just in low and soft tones while Drew finally relaxed. By the time visiting hours were over, he had managed to help the other fall asleep.


	11. Chapter 11

2 Days later. 11:30am.

It was already a rough day and it wasn't even noon. Rick was exhausted just thinking about it, he could only imagine how Drew felt. They had been talking about his pending discharge the following day, more exactly about Rick having to change the dressings on his back. Drew was not exactly comfortable with that. He wasn't exactly comfortable with anyone doing it in fact. They hadn't exactly been arguing but it wasn't a pleasant conversation either. It was after Rick had asked Drew exactly what he was ashamed of the episode happened.

Drew's face went blank, his body tensed, and his breathing hitched. He became so still that for a second, Rick thought he was going to have another episode where his breathing stopped. Then he had started shaking, his whole body, just trembling. Rick had called for a nurse, afraid he was now having a seizure. The nurse had come to check on him and the moment he was touched, Drew snapped. He shoved the nurse away from him, hyperventilating, and scrambled back away from everyone sinking into a corner in the room. He didn't respond to his name or seem to recognize anyone, not even Rick. If someone came near him, it was almost the same panicked reaction. The psychiatrist had arrived and kicked everyone out, even the doctor, shutting the door to the room. Twenty minutes later, and she had managed to alleviate the situation enough to allow the doctor to sedate Drew and do an exam. 

She had then taken Rick to a visitor lounge to speak with him. "I'm Major Florence," she had introduced herself. She was an older lady, motherly, with a neat and tidy attitude that was strangely reassuring. She had handed Rick coffee while guiding him to the sofa. "I know what you saw was frightening," she said, settling in next to him, "but, it's alright. He's not insane and he's not going to become insane. In fact, he's doing remarkably well."

Rick shook his head, still mostly in shock and stared at his hands. He had seen Drew flashback before, but never like that. Never to that level of disconnect. He had been there one moment and was gone the next, the worst part was that he felt like it was his fault. "What… was it something I did? Or said?"

"I doubt it, but what were you talking about? Before he regressed," she asked, voice kind and reassuringly matter of fact.

"The bandages on his back. He doesn't want me changing them. I asked him why, if he was ashamed of it, then he just blanked," Rick said, pressing a hand to his forehead.

Major Florence nodded, "ah. Well, in that case, it's still not your fault."

Rick managed a small laugh, realizing she was joking. "Thanks… But I have never seen him go off like that. I mean, I've seen the nightmares and the long stares into space, I've seen panic attacks but that…"

"Was the overwhelming combination of being sick, frustrated, helpless, and emotionally exhausted mixed with trying to hold everything that has _just_ happened to him at bay. He didn't snap or lose it, he just simply ran out of energy. It was going to happen eventually."

"It just had to be today?" Rick asked.

Major Florence gave him a sympathetic smile, "Better today, than at home, at least he was here, in a more controlled environment. But it's hard, watching him go through this. Especially since he's the more stoic of your partnership?"

Rick bowed his head, almost blushing, "Yeah. He's always been more grounded."

"So even if something was bothering him or hurting him tremendously…" she prompted.

"You'd have to drag it out of him," Rick confirmed. "It's always funny… he has no problem listening to or understanding how everyone else is feeling, but he can never just tell you how he is. Not unless it's too much… like, right now, he's too tired and sick to hide it but as soon as he's feeling better he'll clam up.

"Ah, he sounds like so many other soldiers I know. I bet, he even sounds like you," Major Florence commented, still smiling.

Rick shrugged, "Yeah… I'll admit it. But I'm not the one having the PTSD episode right now."

She nodded, "this is true." There was a slight pause, long enough for both parties to take a drink of coffee, and then the Major continued. "You said you've witnessed his panic attacks, so I need to ask you a question. I'm afraid it's going to be a bit intrusive. But it's going to help."

"Then go ahead," Rick said, with out hesitation. That made her smile again.

Taking a deep breath, she softly asked, "What are his panic attacks like?"

"He hides. I know it's gonna be bad if he avoids people. Like… he loves training for MMA fights. Loves the ring and the group, the whole feel of the gym. But when he's on edge or close to an episode he'll purposely wait for times when his gym is empty," he answered.

"So that's the warning sign, that's what leads up to the attack, but what does he do when he's having one?"

"What do you mean?" Rick asked, confused.

"Well, does he become emotional and hysterical? Does he become hostile and argumentative? How do you know it's a panic attack?" She clarified.

"It's like an implosion. He kind of… it's not exactly hysterical, I mean he doesn't scream or yell or anything. But I've found him in the bathroom before curled up and rocking. His hands were shaking and he was crying but, like, silently. I think he was trying to force himself to calm down, or keep control."

"Ah. So he doesn't like to be emotional and he has to maintain control? Even when he feels like he's losing it. I bet he even punishes himself for having his panic attacks."

"Yeah… that's about right," Rick confirmed.

"I think I understand what happened now, just a little bit better."

"Care to share it?" Rick asked.

"Well, I'm still getting to know Drew, but my first impression is that he's very independent. Stubbornly so," she paused as Rick laughed, "I'll bet, his way of coping with stress and trauma is to take care of those that are also being affected by it. Sort of, like, 'if I can fix them, than I'm not broken.' It's probably what drives him as a doctor. It's also, more than likely, what gives him a sense of control. Or the ability to regain that control and balance, rather."

"That sounds like him," Rick nodded.

"Well, with in the last week and a half, he's had all of that stripped away from him. He's lost all sense of personal control and independence. Worst, he is the only person who went through this trauma. He has no one to focus on except himself. His normal way of coping has been taken away and he has to be taken care of. He can't do things himself. So that means he is, in a way, being forced to submit to other people's wills. And there is the problem."

She paused here gathering her thoughts, "The way he was tortured, what they chose to do to him, wasn't just meant to be physically painful but humiliating as well. What Drew went through was particularly barbaric because as a medic, a doctor, he is supposed to be afforded some level of respect and protection. That was not only denied him, it was used against him. He was made vulnerable, forced to obey someone's will, then tortured in front of a group. Strangers were touching him, hurting him, forcing him to submit, and he was powerless to stop it."

Rich shifted, uncomfortable and angry. "That sounds like rape," he commented, his voice a small and harsh whisper.

"It does, doesn't it? His sense of power was stolen from him. His body was abused. He was purposely humiliated. Now, combine that with a need to remain in control. His whole sense of security and safety is in his ability to maintain a level of self-authority. So now he's facing a very similar situation again. People touching him when he doesn't want to be touched, people telling him what to do, treating him like he's something fragile…"

Rick nodded, understanding and reevaluating his own thoughts and actions. He had been extremely frustrated the past couple days, feeling like he was being shut out or his help was being refused. Drew had yet to allow him to see the wounds on his back or even talk about them. It hadn't really occurred to him what was going on in the other's head. What the Major was saying though made a lot of sense. Hell, he could relate. "It's like when I lost my leg… I was so mad I couldn't do the basic simple things… I felt useless and in my mind that made me worthless," Rick admitted.

Major Florence nodded, "yes, that would be similar. But this isn't so much useless as it is powerless. It's a slightly different trauma. Where you had to come to terms with a different level of independence, he is going to have to accept there was nothing he could have done and from there rebuild his own sense of safety and self power."

Rick was quiet for a long minute, thinking over and considering everything that the doctor had told him. It was daunting to think about, Drew being so... broken. He'd always been the rock, he was Rick's grounding strength when the world was crazy. Now he had to do that for Drew. This switching of roles was overwhelming.

"So what happened today? What triggered that panic attack?" Rick asked, exhaling hard.

"It wasn't a panic attack. It was a flashback. He was reliving part of the trauma, and unfortunately right now I can't tell you more than that. I just don't know. But, I can tell you, that there are very positive signs," she said, a kind smile on her face.

"Like what?" He asked, because all he had seen was his boyfriend losing his mind.

"Well, even in his dissociative state he made no attempt to hurt anyone or himself, all his actions were defensive. That means he's not dangerous. He was also extremely easy to talk down; he began to come out of it with just a few calming techniques. That means he's responsive and this may be a more normal stress response just compounded by the acute stress disorder he already had. In other words, I believe he's very capable of working through this."

"What…" and Rick had to swallow back his fear, "what does this mean for his service?"

"You're worried he'll be forced out or you're worried that he's going to stay in?" She asked.

"A little bit of both?" Rick answered with a sigh, "If he stays in, he will deploy again and I don't want to think about what that would do to him but Drew loves the Army. I don't know how he'd take a discharge and I know this could mean that."

"It's too early to tell and that's the truth. He's done really well to come this far, and I'm optimistic," she shrugged, "we're just going to have to let time tell us."

It was shortly after that, she had excused herself to go back and check on Drew. Rick had been left in the lounge to await permission from the docs to go back. It took almost two hours and the whole time he felt weirdly anxious, like he was waiting for him to get out of surgery. When he was finally allowed back, he had tied himself up in worry knots. He felt stupid when he saw that Drew was actually alert and seemingly back to his pre-episode status.

"Hey," Rick said coming over to Drew who was sitting cross-legged on the bed. He was trying to find a comfortable position and looking highly annoyed that he couldn't. "Can I help?" He asked, slightly amused at the other's fidgeting.

"Not sure how," came the grumpy reply.

Rick shook his head, "which side has the busted rib?"

"Right side… why?" Drew squinted up at him, suspicious.

"Scoot over then," Rick sad as he sat on the bed. The action sort of forced Drew to do as asked, and he made murmurs of protest while he did. Rick just smiled, settling against the headboard, his right leg stretched out. "There's a benefit to having one leg," he said looking over to Drew as he rolled up his pants leg. Drew watched him, his suspicion growing as he took his prosthetic leg off. Rick then swung his good leg up on the bed, stretched out his arm, and smiled over at Drew.

Drew's suspicion had turned to amusement as he finally realized what Rick was doing. He scooted down slightly, so that he was able to lay his head on Rick's lap. Carefully, he settled on his left side, sighing as he finally found relief. "Okay," he mumbled, "You were right." Rick laughed, running his fingers through Drew's hair.

"Your hair's getting long," he commented absentmindedly, "gonna have to cut it."

"Too much effort. I'll just wear a hat," Drew mumbled sleepily.

"Army may not approve…" Rick teased, and that was when he felt Drew shift.

"What did I do?" Drew asked, voice small, almost childlike. It made him sound broken and Rick hated it.

"You didn't do anything," he sighed, still running his fingers through the other's hair.

"They sedated me and called a Psychiatrist," Came the tired reply, "and I'm missing time."

"Sometimes it's really annoying that you're smart… and a doctor…" Rick grumbled, "you didn't _do_ anything Drew; nothing wrong, nothing you had control over, and nothing that was your fault. You just...you flashed back and it was a little bit more than your panic attacks."

Drew was quite, and still for a long moment, before he asked, "did I hurt anyone?"

"No, not at all. You didn't even try to," Rick said, "they didn't tell you what happened?"

"Not really. Just that There was some kind of episode," Drew sighed. He sounded tired and frustrated. "I don't even remember what happened."

"What do you remember?" Rick asked, carefully because he wasn't actually sure if this was an okay conversation to have right now.

"Talking with you about the bandages on my back," was the equally careful response. Rick had to laugh at that, especially when Drew peered up at him with half opened eyes.

"We were arguing and you know it," Rick teased, and when he got glared at he only laughed again. Sobering, he then added, "Then you...you just kinda went blank. You weren't responding to anything for a moment. And when you did, you didn't know where you were and weren't reacting to anyone here except to try and get away. But you didn't hurt anyone."

There was a long moment of silence as Drew processed the information. Rick could feel his tension. "Don't you dare apologize," Rick said, "this isn't your fault in anyway."

Drew shifted, biting his lip to keep from groaning out loud. Currently his body was aching, every thing from his back to his chest to his head hurt. He would love to be able to sleep, but with his body hurting and his mind racing that wasn't likely to happen. Still, the fatigue made him groggy and that always made him more forthcoming, even when he didn't want to be.

"I haven't seen my back," Drew mumbled once he had resettled against Rick. "All I know is that it hurts and I can feel the skin tare and I have no idea what it looks like."

"That bothers you?" Rick asked.

"Yeah…" was the equally mumbled reply.

"Why?"

Drew sighed, and turned his face into Rick's side. He didn't bury it, that would hurt, but enough to hide his face. "I remember screaming," he answered, his voice hushed, almost choked. He was ashamed. "And I don't even know if it...if I was just...was I just being…"

Drew couldn't get the words out, but Rick understood all the same, and for a second he was angry. Did this man, this amazing man, really think he was pathetic? That it was shameful to feel pain and react to it? Did he really not get how strong he was? That there were hundreds of soldiers who wouldn't be able to survive what he had? Then again, that was exactly something Drew would think.

"Wait a second," he said, words measured, "let me see if I'm getting this… you were taken prisoner, beaten, used as slave labor, and then tortured and you're afraid you were weak?" There was no verbal answer from Drew but he felt the other shift. "Drew, you do realize what you went through is way more intense than anything I've ever experienced over there or in the Army, even Ranger training? In fact, I don't know too many Rangers who could have made it out of that hell even remotely as well as you have."

"But I haven't… sometimes I'm still there. Sometimes all I can think is how stupid and pathetic I was to let them beat me. I didn't even try to fight or resist, I just… I just aided them. I—"

"Stayed alive? I don't think it counts as aiding the enemy if you have a gun pointed at your head. Come on, you know exactly what they tell us in POW training; do everything you can within reason to survive."

"It just felt so wrong… I felt like I was giving up… and the worst part… when they had me strung up and I was screaming they were laughing… I just felt like nothing…" Drew's voice had become a choked whisper. The level of emotion Rick was getting from the other told him just how exhausted he was, and while that wasn't great, it was helpful to get information out of him. It was also, most times, helpful for getting through his thick skull.

"So what if you screamed? You went through hell and you lived. No matter how weak you think you were, you survived, you made it home and to me, that makes you tougher than anyone else. If anybody says otherwise, I'll kick their ass. That includes you."

"Can you at least wait until my face is healed? I can finally breathe through my nose again and I really like that." He was trying for a joke, to deflect the seriousness of the moment, but Rick could hear the hitch in his voice.

"I mean it Drew. I don't think I served with a Ranger who could have come out of what you did as sane as you are."

"I don't feel sane," the other admitted. "Sometimes, right as I'm starting to fall asleep, I think I'm back in that closet and I snap awake. Or I hear footsteps outside the room and I think they're coming for me again. I can't get away."

Rick ran his hand through Drew's hair again, using his fingers to draw strange patterns in it. "You got to give yourself a break. It's barely been a week; you haven't even had the chance to process being home. When you're out of the hospital, at home, it's going to be better."

"I want you to be right," Drew murmured.

"I am, you'll see," Rick said, and he hopped he was right.

-line-

2 days later. 9:40 PM.

It had been a good day, better than he hoped. Drew was home, and currently very much enjoying the bed he had missed oh so much. Rick was stretched out next to him, watching him sleep, one part savoring the sight and one part standing guard. He had been released from the hospital this morning, the flashback episode delaying his release. The news had spread quickly and everyone had come to see him. Krista, Kenny, Jordan, TC, Topher, members of his unit… everyone who couldn't visit him in the hospital showed up to see him now. It had been exhausting but it had done him a world of good. So had the calls from his mother and sister. Right now, he was doing okay, and it was a relief, but that was right now.

Major Florence had warned Rick about the roller coaster that was going to be coming. Nightmares, flashbacks, mode swings, and other similar behaviors were all to be expected. He knew it was going to be hard, he could remember how he had acted the days following losing his leg and the range of emotions and adjustments. He could imagine it was going to be a similar situation. He wanted to think he was prepared, he wasn't sure. Still though, that was borrowing trouble. Right now, Drew was sleeping just fine, head resting on his chest. He had his arms around him, and was listening to the steady sounds of him breathing. This peace, after so much hell, this was nice.

Too bad it was short lived. Without warning, there was a crash from upstairs. It was just furniture falling over, but it was loud and sudden and Rick felt Drew jerk awake. He pushed himself away from him looking around frantically. Rick could almost hear his heart beating.

"Hey, Drew, look at me," he said in an even, calm voice, getting the other's attention, "it's the neighbors. It's okay." He repeated this two more times before Drew seemed to process the words enough to start to relax. "Back with me?" Rick asked, once the panic started leaving Drew's face.

Drew nodded, slowly looking around again. "Fuck…" he finally managed to say, falling back into the pillows.

Rick gave a soft laugh, and kissed his forehead. "Yeah, freaked me out too. You alright?"

"Yeah…" Drew sighed.

"Tell me where you went?" Rick asked, just like Major Florence had instructed him too. Anytime Drew had signs of panic attacks, flashbacks, or, what she called, involuntary regressions, the idea was to get him to talk about them. Voice the fear or memory with the hope of understanding and thus lessening the trauma.

"Honestly? I don't know…" Drew forced out a breath shutting his eyes, "I just… it sounded like an explosion almost."

"Were there explosions where you were held?"

"No… transferring to Bagram the convoy was hit by roadside bombs. It sounded like that for a second," Drew answered, rubbing his face carefully. He was already starting to fall back asleep.

Rick however, felt his heart skip a beat. He hadn't known about the convoy attack. "Wait...hold on a second… your convoy was attacked?"

Drew looked over him, almost laughing at the look on his face. "Yeah… first night at Bagram. We were about forty minutes from base and the Humvee in front of mine hit the IED. As soon as it went off, they opened fire on us. The front passenger of the Humvee died. I show up at Bagram and met Syd for the first time covered in smoke and blood." Rick was quiet for a moment his expression was a mixture of protectiveness, rage, and something else that was unreadable. With sleepy amusement, Drew gave him a small smile and said, "I mean… given everything else this tour, it was fairly straightforward."

"That's a messed up definition of straightforward," Rick commented. The other man shrugged.

"I mean, I drilled into a guy's head during a firefight. So, that's kinda what I'm comparing it to," he added.

Rick laughed softly, "Alright… fair point. So, that sounded like an IED?"

"Yeah, when I was asleep, now it just seems kind of stupid…"

"Well, I was awake and I thought it was a door being kicked in, so you're not the only one hearing things," Rick said.

Drew yawned and turned back onto his side, pressing his face into Rick's side. "We're weird," he mumbled.

Rick laughed. "Are you gonna sleep on me the whole night?" he teased, wrapping his arm around the other.

"Mmmm-hmmm," Drew mumbled, "You're warm and you smell good. And I can finally smell again…"

Rick laughed, settling in. "Good night weirdo," he said, kissing the other on his head. There was no reply, however, except Drew's even breaths.

-line-

8:13 AM.

Drew was not happy. He sat on the bed, watching as Rick laid out the things he would need to change the bandages. He glared at the items, almost sullen. "Once upon a time, this would have been an interesting night for us," Rick teased, trying to ease the other's tension, "back in med school, you liked playing doctor."

"Yeah, but you were the patient," Drew grumbled as Rick came to stand in front of him.

Rick ran a hand through Drew's hair, examining the lacerations there to make sure they were still healing correctly. Kissing the top of Drew's head he moved his hand to the back of his neck and gave it a slight squeeze. "I know you don't want this, but it's got to be done. I'm sorry," he said softly.

Drew sighed trying to force himself to relax. This was humiliating, and while he knew that it shouldn't be and he shouldn't feel ashamed, he couldn't help it. He could still feel the ropes cutting into his wrists and how it felt to be stripped with so many eyes on him. He felt dirty, exposed, and weak…he didn't want to be that in front of Rick.

"Hey… we talked about this with Major Florence. The scares mean you survived, surviving is the opposite of being weak," Rick said, sensing Drew's thoughts.

Drew nodded, but he was still tense and he stared at his wrists. He still had rope burns and lacerations from being strung up. The soft splints he was wearing covered the bandages but not the memories. He could feel the rope cinching, hear the laughter, his heart started racing and he suddenly felt sick. A hand on his shoulder made him jump and he inhaled sharply.

"I promise," Rick said softly, "it's going to be alright." He then took Drew's right hand in both his and gently undid the soft brace. Drew watched him, mesmerized, and skittish, something that wasn't unnoticed by his boyfriend. "Just breathe Drew, nothing's going to hurt you. You're safe here."

Drew nodded, sucking in a deep breath and holding it as the bandage was pulled away completely revealing the ugly wounds. Rick forced himself not to flinch as he looked at the bruising and scabbing. He had seen worse wounds before, but that was in the field. There was something off putting about seeing the wounds after treatment, while they were cleaned…sterilized… it made it seem surreal. In a weird way, he kind of had a new understanding of why Drew stayed in Emergency Medicine. Being a solider, he could make more sense of blood and guts than this neat and tidy after care.

"It's not so bad," Drew said, but his voice was tight. He was studying the bruises and discoloration on his wrist; his face was neutral, blank even. Rick didn't understand how, or what "not so bad" meant. The skin was purple, black, green, and yellow. The scabs were red and cracked, like dried blood. To Rick, it looked horrible.

"Alright doctor… how is it not so bad?" he asked, looking up at Drew.

"There's more green bruising than purple, meaning that it's healing fast. Most of the bruising was probably just superficial. The deeper colors are probably from the fractures and now that the swelling is down, the bruising will start clearing up now that the blood can move. The scabs are clean, fresh on the surface but underneath they're older. That means the lacerations healed from the inside out like they were supposed to. I… I thought they'd be worse." Drew looked away, eyes going to the window.

Rick watched him a moment before turning his focus back to the wounds and cleaning them. Drew didn't watch him as he moved from one wrist to the other, but he did speak with him. He managed to joke and talk a little, though he was still tense, but not as bad as before. When it came time to do his back, he still managed to remain relatively calm, but he was pale and his breathing was slightly elevated. He was definitely agitated, and if Rick wasn't careful, they could be looking at a panic attack.

Slowly, taking care not to spook the other, he stood, a teasing smile on his face that he made sure Drew saw. "What?" he asked, as he looked up at Rick, suspicious.

The other man's smile widened and he almost giggled, "I get to take off your shirt for, like, the first time ever. It's always me who loses his clothes first, but now I get to take off your shirt."

Drew glared up at him, trying his best to look annoyed but failing in light of Rick's mischievous look. "I can take off my own shirt," he reminded the other, "My hands still work."

Rick kissed Drew and shushed him. "Uh-uh… let me take off your shirt? Please? I never get to…"

Drew sighed, dramatically, but it was clearly for show. He scooted back on the bed, so that he could easily roll to his stomach, once his shirt was off. He even managed to laugh when Rick let out a victorious "yes!" But he shut his eyes as Rick started to lift up his t-shirt and went completely still as Rick carefully undressed him. "Breathe, Drew," Rick said, his voice as soothing as he could make it, "The worst is over and this is just recovering."

Drew swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. He carefully rolled onto his stomach, being mindful of all his injuries. It still hurt, and he was still uncomfortable, but he managed to settle in and pillowed his head on his arms. He then lay still, trying hard to block out the world so he didn't see how pale Rick had become or the fact that he his breath caught in his throat. This was the first time he had seen the full extent of Drew's injuries and not just his wrists and face. The bruising on his chest and around his ribs from where Drew had been beaten was ugly and bad, but his back was horrible.

The skin was in various stages of healing, he could tell, but it was so garish and horrible. He had to peel off bandages that covered the deepest wounds, and that was when he got his first real look at the trauma the other had been enforced to endure. The lacerations were red and looked inflamed, although he saw no other signs of infection, although it was hard to know for sure because he couldn't make sense of all the welts and marks. There were various shades of purples, reds, and greens that made his back look like a patchwork quilt. It was disgusting and enraging that this had happened. That this had happened to the man he loved. "I'm sorry," Rick whispered as he sat next to Drew on the bed. "I didn't understand before, what they did to you…"

Drew looked at him, his face that blank stoic look he gave when he was trying not to feel. "You didn't do this," he whispered, his voice hushed and harsh, almost choked. He was trying to hold it together, but Rick could see him shaking.

"I know that… but I didn't understand. I didn't get it… I'm sorry," Rick said sincerely, stroking his thumb along Drew's jaw.

Drew leaned into the touch, drawing from it comfort, but it couldn't keep the emotions at bay. With a shaking voice, he confessed, "I tried to keep count. He told me it would only be twenty-one. I tried to hold onto the number thinking that I could last, but I lost count after thirty. And then I started to go in and out… The next thing I knew I was being dunked in water."

Rick swallowed back the rage and grief that was choking him and leaned in close to Drew. He kissed his lover's forehead and took a long moment to gather his thoughts. It took several minutes before he was finally able to speak with out being choked, "I mean it Drew. You are the toughest person I know. I'm so proud of you and I'm going to spend everyday you let me making things right."

"But you don't have to," Drew said, almost whispered.

"But I want to," Rick said, and he kissed Drew again. "Let me start by getting your back cleaned up, okay?"

Drew nodded, not able to speak. He just lowered his head back onto his arms, finally able to relax just a little bit.


	12. Chapter 12

1 month later. 6:00 PM

The last month had been intense, to say the least. Rick had known what to expect but that had not made it any easier. He had started his position on the SWAT team, completing the police academy and beginning his field training, so in that aspect all was well. Drew had also passed the tests he had to take to keep his medical certifications because of the head trauma. Not that anyone thought he wouldn't but it was one less thing to worry about. His physical recovery was also going well, and he was almost back to his pre-trauma condition. Psychology, things were progressing a little slower.

It was tense in the apartment, but not because they were fighting or even Drew's mood swings. In fact, he wasn't really having too dramatic of shifts and most of them came either before or after panic attacks so they were easy to navigate. The angry outbursts had stopped with in the first three weeks of being home, when Kenny had figured out an exercise routine that he could do despite his injuries. That had helped tremendously. The panic attacks and regressive flash backs were what the biggest problem was. Especially since it seemed they were on hair triggers. Major Florence, who was Drew's psychologist now, believed the hair triggers were because of the missing time Drew had.

Drew was not able to remember the time between Jim-Jo being shot and waking up as a captive. There were also fragments of his imprisonment that he couldn't remember as well, and it made him anxious. Major Florence's theory was that because of the concussion and the time gaps he had, his brain was trying extremely hard to make sense of the trauma. It was trying to fill in the gaps and form a timeline of events, so if something even remotely seemed like it was related to what happened it would make him regress. It was an exhausting roller coaster for both of them, and the episodes were extremely hard for Rick to watch. Especially when Drew was seemingly reliving the experiences and not just remembering them. The worst part was when Drew tried to distance himself from Rick or apologized for his brain. The silver lining in all this, however, was that each flashback seemed to fill in another blank. So while they were bad at times, Drew was able to remember more details and piece together more information, allowing himself the ability to face it.

"It's not quick, and it's not pretty, but it is getting better," the Major had told them, "I know you see the episodes as setbacks, or think they're a bad thing, but in this case they're not. These aren't the type of flashbacks where you dissociate and get lost; these are short-lived episodes where you re-experience the event. That's more indicative of head trauma than it is psychological."

So, that was the good news. It still made things difficult. Currently, now was one of those times. Drew was having a panic attack that was dangerously close to becoming a flashback. Rick had come home to find him, curled up into the corner of the bathroom. He had been vomiting, which explained why he was in the bathroom, but the trigger of this attack and what he was seeing was a mystery. The problem was, they so often were now. All the old triggers, the ones he knew to look for, were still there and now he was finding new and exciting ones to look out for. It was a draining process.

"Drew, baby, look at me," Rick said, trying yet again to get his attention. "Come on, focus on me…"

"You shouldn't be here...what are you doing here?" Drew mumbled. He had finally stopped rocking.

"Where is here?" Rick asked, holding his breath. So it had progressed to flashback, which meant it was going to be a long night, and he was already so tired.

"You need to get to cover," came the answer.

Rick forced back a groan. This was going to take awhile. "I need to call in our position Captain. Where are we?"

"Al-Jahr. We're in Al-Jahr," Drew finally answered as he stared straight ahead, eyes unfocused.

"What are we doing here? Why do we need to take cover?" Rick continued, sliding down the sink cabinet to the floor. He really wanted to take his leg off and just lay down. It had been a long day, and he was exhausted, but here he was. Looking over at his lover, Rick could see the glazed look to his eyes and the panic in his posture and there was no way he could leave now. He may have been having a rough time, but Drew wasn't doing so great either.

"Community outreach. Vaccines for the kids…" he answered, "but we fucked up. I really fucked up…I fucked up. It's my fault."

Rick saw tears in Drew's eyes, the other was fighting to hold them back. He was rocking again too. "What happened? What went wrong?"

This was something different than his imprisonment, some other trauma, and Rick was searching back through all the conversations they'd had the past year trying to figure out what. Hell, it could even have been from his tours in Iraq for all he knew. Drew's brain had been shitty like that lately. His flashbacks, while primarily focused around being tortured, were mixing with other events. No idea why, but that was a thing now, and Rick was learning about all kinds of gut clenching incidents his boyfriend had experienced over his three tours. Things he'd never known about, and wondered why the hell Drew hadn't told him.

"Shouldn't have been so relaxed, should have kept a guard up. He never would've gotten so close. We could have disarmed the kid if we saw him sooner but Marsh didn't have a choice...he did good. Exactly what he was supposed to. It's not on him, it's on me."

"What's on you?" Rick asked, voice neutral and low. The calmer and more detached he stayed, the easier it was to walk Drew through the memory. He'd had a lot of practice with this lately… his field training officer wanted him to go for his crisis intervention cert, and Rick knew damn well this was why.

"Marsh told him to drop the rifle, gave him plenty of chances. The kid opened fire. Marsh had to shoot him. I was supposed to fix it. Supposed to be able to fix it… but you can't… the bullets went right through his heart. I can't fix that...and I know that… I shouldn't have tried, we should have just backed out. But… he was twelve… what kind of fucked up country uses twelve year olds to fucking shoot people?"

Something slid into place in Rick's mind. The call that came in, when Drew's face was bruised and he couldn't talk about what had happened but still needed to talk… "Lot of messed up people in the world…. you tried to save him?"

"I couldn't just... he was so young... but I shouldn't have because the village… they turned on us. They started throwing rocks at us. I got hit in the head…."

Yes, definitely _that_ call, Rick thought. "I remember that. You called me when you got back to base. You couldn't talk about it then," Rick said.

"Investigation's over," he sighed, sagging against the wall. He was coming out of it now, returning to the present.

"Drew? You with me?" Rick asked, watching him.

"Texas," was the reply, and Rick gave a small smile. It had become _the_ test of Drew's head space, how they both determined where his head was. Drew had taught it to him years ago, and really it wasn't anything he hadn't learned in basic. First rule of first aid, make sure your patient is breathing, awake, alert, and oriented to person, place, time, and event. They had simply modified it to making sure Drew knew what day it was and where he was.

"What happened?" Rick asked trying to find the cause of the episode.

"It's stupid…" Drew mumbled.

"I mean, is it a plastic glass broke and ya lost it stupid? Cause if not, I still hold the title for most stupid reason to have a melt down," he joked, getting a tired smile from the other.

"Okay… maybe less stupid. But still stupid…. I freaked out because a ball hit the front door. I was trying to sleep and then, suddenly, bam. I held it together long enough to look out the window even… and then I lost it."

"Yeah… see… that's not stupid. How does this one fit with the rest?"

"One of the men who attacked us that day was the same one who told them I was a doctor," Drew sighed. "It was also the same village… Al-Jahr was where we did the outreach and it was where they took me prisoner."

Rick nodded. "It's a small world after all?" He joked and Drew even laughed.

"I'm so tired of this…" he sighed, leaning against the tub. "I just want one day that's normal."

"You've had plenty of days without flashbacks," Rick reminded him. He was tired of this conversation.

"Rick, I can't even leave the apartment without taking at least twenty minutes to convince myself I'm going to be fine," Drew snapped. And here came the mood swings.

"That's ten minutes less than last week," he tried to joke but Drew wasn't having it.

"I need to shower," he said, and it was clearly the end on this conversation.

"Okay…" Rick sighed. He pulled himself up off the floor. He couldn't do this now, couldn't handle the tension or the mood swings. He was too tired. But he felt like shit for it. He was supposed to be able to help, to tolerate the outbursts and flashbacks, but when he was tired and sore and just done with day he couldn't. He couldn't take on Drew's mind and self-loathing thoughts when he was barely awake, and for that he felt like a failure.

"I'm sorry…" Drew said softly, "I know you're trying and I'm sorry that I can't…" he paused, taking a breath, "I don't know what to do."

Rick bowed his head, he knew exactly where Drew was. Knew exactly that feeling. He was there not too long ago too. "Don't give up, you're doing so much better than you think. Just take a shower, okay? I'll figure out dinner."

Drew nodded. "I wish you didn't have to deal with this," he said softly.

"Yeah, that's what I felt too," Rick said softly, "back when I lost my leg. Just don't do something stupid and walk out, okay?"

"I mean that'd be really stupid, it's my apartment…" and there was the break in the tension that they needed. There was the end of this episode, Rick's clue that for now Drew was okay, and the reminder that, while not perfect, he was better. His episodes were shorter, easier to talk through, and a lot less immersive.

"You're a jerk," Rick teased, "and I'm ordering pizza."

-line-

1 week later. 4:00 PM

"Why don't you get a dog?" His training officer had said while they were finishing up paperwork.

The other man was in his late forties and former Marine who had been in the original Desert Storm and done fifteen years in the military. Rick had been nervous, albeit only slightly, considering the other was a "man's man" type and he was openly gay in a place where masculinity was everything. But, as it turned out, one of Jimmy's kids was gay, so he really didn't care. In fact the majority of the police force didn't, and it was just as normal to ask Rick about his boyfriend as they asked the others about their wives and girlfriends. If anything, his fellow officers seemed to check up on Drew more given the fact he had just returned. It was nice. The two of them had been talking about their families, Jimmy telling Rick about his youngest child's latest hockey game and Rick telling him about Drew's recovery and what he thought may have been a set back.

"I mean, it's gotta be hard to be alone most the day, even if he's going out to do things. That's gotta be part of the problem, not having someone there to help gauge the threat or help make him feel like he's got back up. Hell, even just setting up a routine and making your brain go 'I need to get through this to take care of the dog.' I mean it helped me when I came back. Might be something to think about?" And it was exactly something that he thought about. For the last few days in fact, and now, after last nights fight, he had a plan. Walking into the apartment he called out for the other. "Hey babe, you awake?"

"Nope," he called back from the bedroom, sounding very much awake. Rick smiled, making his way to there. He found Drew on the bed, with a bunch of papers, his computer, and reading materials around him.

"Studying? Do you have to do more tests?"

"Continuing ed… I start back at the hospital in two weeks and I have to catch up on my credits," Drew sighed, a combination of frustration and exhaustion. "It's not like it's anything hard, just a lot to make up. Jordan was helping me, but she had to go in."

"Need a break?" Rick asked, changing into street clothes. "Wanna go on an adventure?" He could feel Drew's eyes on him and he knew without looking the suspicious glare he was getting.

"What are you planning?" Came the question.

"Come with me and you'll find out," Rick said, smiling mischievously, "or stay here and try to focus while wondering what I'm up to. Your pick."

Drew sighed, knowing all too well what happened when Rick had that look and was left unsupervised. "Let me get some shoes…"

It was twenty minutes later that had the pair pulling up outside of the humane society. Drew had been rather quiet the ride in, letting Rick talk about his day, but now he was speaking volumes. At least his eyes were when he turned to look at his boyfriend.

"So, we're here…" Rick said, highly amused as he cut off the engine.

Drew's voice was measured, "this is an animal shelter."

"Yes, and we're going inside," Rick said.

"Rick…" Drew started, annoyed.

"Hey, just to look, okay? That's it. I promise," Rick tried to pacify.

"This is a really bad idea. What are we doing looking at animals?"

"Dogs, looking at dogs. And you said the other night how you hated feeling isolated. Like you didn't know who you could talk to without feeling like a burden. So—"

"You think a dog's gonna help?" Drew almost snapped. "Really? Rick, I'm barely functional. I have so much to catch up on, I start back again in two weeks and I'm not even sure I can handle that, and now you want to add a dog into the mix?"

"Come in and look?" Rick said with a shrug, "that's all I'm asking. Okay?"

Drew wanted to scream. He couldn't believe Rick was actually doing this. It was stupid and crazy and a horrible idea. There was no way anything good could come of it and he had no desire to go inside. But Rick was already out of the car, and he knew if the man went in alone, he'd come back with a whole pack of dogs. Grumbling and cursing under his breath Drew climbed out and followed Rick.

Inside of the kennels, Rick did most of the talking with Drew hanging back. He and the adoption aid, a collage aged girl named Sarah, were up front talking like old friends, and Drew had drifted away from them too annoyed to be there. He wondered slowly down the kennel hall, trying to block all the whimpers and barks from the dogs. It made him anxious and angry seeing the dogs in their cages, watching them pace. No innocent living thing should be locked in a cage. He knew that now more than ever. Coming to a cage, near the back, Drew stopped suddenly, some instinct making him pause.

Looking into the cage on his right, he saw a three-legged mutt hunched in the back corner. His ears were back, tail tucked, but he was growling; he was scared but he was still willing to fight. Unlike all the other dogs, this one wasn't 'adorable' or 'cute', in fact he looked a little rough. His coat was dull, he was bulky and needed some exercise, and he had scarring to his face and body. He was so tense and so scared that it hurt to watch, but there was a look in his eyes, one Drew understood all too well; help me, I'm drowning. Drew glanced back over towards where Rick and the aid were still talking. They hadn't seem to notice his absence yet, that was fine. Taking a deep breath and holding it, he took a step closer to the cage watching the dog. He shied back, but didn't snap or snarl, so Drew crouched down and waited. The dog watched him, still curled in on itself, but he had stopped growling and tilted his head.

"Hey there," Drew said softly, sticking a few fingers in between the bars.

The dog inched forward, still hunching low, but his tail was no longer tucked. Drew held still, patient, allowing the dog to take his time. He knew a thing or two about being skittish so he understood the hesitation. "It's alright," he encouraged, "take all the time you need."

The dog came as close as he dared, stopping about two inches away from Drew's fingers. Curiously, he sniffed the air a couple of times, on the third sniff he came closer. Close enough for Drew to brush his fingertips along his nose. The dog snorted and shook his head, as if the touch tickled. It made Drew laugh softly and he sat cross-legged in front of the cage. "You're okay," he promised as the movement startled the dog, and he stuck his fingers back in, letting the animal smell him again. That was exactly the position Rick and Sarah found them in, sitting quietly fingers to nose.

Rick, feeling more than a little vindicated, said softly, "So who's your friend?" Drew looked up at him with narrowed eyes, because he knew exactly what was going to happen and just how smug his boyfriend was going to be.

"This is Scout," Sarah said smiling softly, "he's a three year old hound mix that was rescued from an abusive home. He's a tough pup… survived a lot." There was a note of sadness in her voice with that last comment.

Rick studied both the dog and the man he loved. It was strange, seeing the mirrored look in their eyes, that same sense of being almost broken and oh so lost. Hell, looking at Scout, with his three legs, Rick could almost laugh at the coincidence. There probably wasn't going to be a better dog for them than right here. "So have we," Drew said softly, giving voice to Rick's thoughts. Using Drew to brace, he crouched down sticking his fingers into the cage like Drew did. Scout sniffed his hand, and then tilted his head, looking at both of them for a moment before lying down on his belly and waving at them with his only front paw.

Sarah laughed and said, "congratulations guys, you have a dog."


	13. Chapter 13

3 Weeks later. 6:00 PM

The last three weeks had been interesting, to say the least. The dog was definitely a handful, and adjusting to a new routine was hard but the changes he had brought for Drew… Major Florence had thought it was a wonderful idea and highly approved. She had told Rick the idea of taking care of something would do Drew a world of good and help give him back sense of control. Which of course, it had. The last few weeks had seen the other almost completely coming back. There were still a few tense times, but he seemed to be so much more relaxed.

Hell, he'd even been able to finally tell the whole story of what he'd been through. At least the parts he remembered. It was the first time he'd been able to actually go over and examine the events with other people and it was amazing how much that seemed to help him. Still though, listening to what had happened to him, that had been hard and Rick had never felt so angry and yet so proud in all his life. Drew hadn't had a panic attack or flashback in almost two weeks. The closest he'd gotten to was the night before returning to the ER. It had been several hours of having to convince him that the bastard who tortured him was lying when he said he was more of a killer than a doctor. And it hadn't even really been a fight to do that, just more going over things and talking.

Of course Scout was there to help mediate, making sure things didn't get too tense. He was a skittish dog, liking loud noises and sudden movements about as much as Drew did, but all things considered he was tough. He was settling in fairly well, slowly coming out of his shell. It was amusing as hell to learn about all his little quirks, like only eating if one of them were eating. Drew's favorite was how the dog laid down and started waving his one forepaw when he wanted something. He needed some obedience training, and some socializing but he was a good dog.

Currently, Rick was headed home, and extremely anxious however. A sudden storm had hit the area, unleashing torrential rain and a violent display of lightning and thunder. It was exactly the kind of thing that sounded and looked like an artillery fight and would trigger a flashback. It had before, on several occasions for Drew. Hell, it could normally be a trigger for him too. He had tried to call his boyfriend several times at the start of the storm but there had been no answer. It was all he could do not to use the lights and sirens to get home. Walking into the apartment, Rick had no idea what to expect. It was dark, no lights on, and there was no sound except the dog whimpering. Heart in his throat, Rick called out, "Drew?"

"Hey, in the living room," came the instant reply and that was followed by a loud thunderclap than a series of whimpers. "Hey... it's alright, you're alright…" Rick heard Drew say as he walked into the living room, his anxiety turning to confusion. He found the other on the floor behind the couch, pinned in place by an eighty-pound dog trying very hard hide inside his chest. Giving Rick a tired look, Drew said, "He doesn't like storms."

"I can tell…" Rick sighed, rubbing a hand through his hair.

"You okay?" Drew asked with his brow frowned in concern.

"Yeah… I'm just… I'm fine…" Rick grumbled coming over to sit next to Drew and Scout.

"You thought the storm was going to get to me, didn't you?" Drew said, teasingly.

Rick bowed his head, blushing slightly, "Yeah, a little bit, and I tried calling but you didn't answer…"

"Phone's in the bedroom, charging, and I've had him on my lap since the storm started," Drew said apologetically.

Rick laughed softly and leaned against his boyfriend, resting his head on his shoulder. He reached out and stroked Scout, who had shifted so he was between them. "But you're okay?"

"I'm fine. Promise," the other assured him, "what about you? Huh? Storms set you off too."

"It caught me off guard at work and I had a moment… just the same night as always but I'm fine," Rick said.

"Want me to give you the you're safe speech?" Drew teased.

"I will hit you," Rick declared, getting a laugh from the other.

"I love you too," Drew sighed, and the three fell into a semi silence, the only sounds from the storm and Scout.

-line-

2 Days later. 1:15 PM.

Drew nervously waited in the dinner's booth. It was a small, family owned place that Syd had said was Riley's favorite. He was supposed to meet the thirteen year old and her grandmother there at 1330 hours. It was going to be a sort of birthday celebration for her and an apology that he was home instead of her mom. Syd had helped him set it up, grateful that he was taking care of her but also reminding him he had nothing to feel guilty about. But he couldn't help that guilt, especially since he could remember being her age and waiting for his dad to come home.

He looked down at his wrists, making sure that the scars were hidden under the cuffs of his shirt. Getting the splints off meant that the angry red marks of new scar tissue were clearly visible. He hated them, hated the memories they invoked, and took great lengths to cover them. He didn't want to have _another_ conversation about them with some curious stranger. Especially when Rick wasn't around to work as a buffer. He was lucky that the bruising on his face had all faded and his hair distorted the new scars on his head, even though it was newly cut. Major Florence had told him the scars would take time to get use to, that eventually he'd only notice them every now and then.

He was still relearning to accept his new reality, so it was okay if he wanted to hide them or if he felt uncomfortable when people saw them. What wasn't okay was feeling ashamed of them or not wanting himself to be seen by others. She had suggested long sleeved shirts in public and t-shirts around friends to help him get use to exposing the scars. Rick's solution to the issue was equally as practical, and had the bonus side effect of helping with his own self-image; they had sex.

Fidgeting nervously, Drew looked up at the clock on the wall. It was getting closer to 1330, and he felt like he had butterflies in his stomach. He looked over to where he knew Syd's present for Riley was sitting next to him on the bench, just to make sure it was there. The diner door opened, he heard the little bell ring, and he looked up. He smiled, recognizing the girl and her grandmother from the pictures Syd had shown him. He stood, waving to them as they looked around. Riley saw him first and smiled waving back, before getting her grandmother's attention. The two of them approached, Riley leading the way. The young girl stopped in front of Drew and looked up at him, eyes wide.

She had her mother's eye's, expressive and warm, but she definitely took after her father more. Still, without her even talking, Drew knew that Riley was going to have her mom's intelligence and personality. Poor Syd had her hands full. "Captain Alistair?" she asked, head tilted.

Drew smiled and nodded, "Yes ma'am. But you can just call me Drew."

Riley beamed at him, and before he knew what was happening, she was hugging him tightly. "Mom told me what happened and why she had to switch tours with you," the thirteen year old said as she squeezed him gently but tight. "I'm really happy that you made it home."

Drew felt his breathe catch at the words, and his heart constrict just a little. He was already hugging Riley, but he hugged her just a little tighter now. "Thank you," he said softly, and for the first time since getting home, he felt forgiven.

-line-

1 month later. 7:00 AM

Walking out of the ER this morning, Drew was looking forward to the weekend. Rick and he both had off for the next three days and he was in the mood to celebrate. Major Florence had cleared him to return to active duty, he wasn't going to be kicked out of the Army. The JAG officials had also formally cleared him of any charges basically stating that he was operating under duress and therefore was not aiding the enemy. Syd was also coming home, and he and Riley, who he had come quite attached to, were planning a surprise party for her. The best part, however, was every day he got to wake up next to Rick. The man had promised to stay with him, and through all the hell and high water, he had. Life was finally going right.

"See, there he is! There he is!" Drew heard Rick say and it was followed by a bark. Looking up, he saw his boyfriend and their dog standing by the benches near the parking lot. As soon as Scout saw him, he came running up and started hoping around him.

Laughing, Drew bent down and fussed over the dog. "Hey buddy! Hey there! Hi!" He called as Rick came over. Looking up at him, he smiled and added, "Hi to you too."

Rick laughed, re-leashing Scout as Drew stood. He leaned into him as Drew hugged him and kissed his check. "Hey, how was your shift?"

"Uneventful. What about you?" Drew asked as they walked slowly towards the parking lot.

"Easy. Wonderfully easy," Rick smiled, "you still want to look at houses this weekend?"

"Yeah. I mean, unless you wanna do something else?" Drew asked, slightly confused. They had both been talking about getting out of the apartment, into a quieter setting. With Drew going back to work and Rick's new position they could afford a house and some land like they'd wanted. They had picked this weekend to start looking, given their schedules.

"I just wanted to make sure. I mean buying a house together is kinda a big deal…" Rick said, and he seemed fidgety.

"So is adopting a dog, but you convinced me to do that in less than two hours," was the teasing reply.

"Yeah...that's true… but I think that was more Scout. And… It's just that a house is a big commitment…"

Drew stopped and gently pulled on Rick's arm, prompting the other to turn towards him. "Everything okay? Are you... is this what you want?" He asked, heart beating just slightly too fast. He was almost afraid that the other was going to leave him again.

"I mean, what I want is a family and a life with you. I want the house with the nice fence on the quiet street that I share with you," he said, smiling softly at Drew.

"That's what I want too," Drew said, smiling back, and then something just came over him. It was a brash mix of affection, contentment, and adrenaline that made him believe, if ever there was a time he was more certain in his life, he couldn't remember. "What are we waiting for? Let's just do it. Let's just get married."

Rick smiled and blushed slightly before he started laughing. " _I_ was actually going to ask _you._ I packed our bags and made a hotel reservation. We can be in Santa Fe tonight."

Drew started laughing, pulling Rick closer to him and kissing him again. "Packed our bags huh?" He said, still holding the other close, "sounds like you were pretty sure I was going to say yes…"

Rick kissed him before pulling away and taking his hand. "I was pretty sure... you're a little predictable."

Drew laughed, "oh! Predicable? Guess I have to work on that…"

"Nah, I like you this way. Right Scout?"

Scout barked happily, making them both laugh. Climbing into Drew's pickup, Rick took the other's hand and squeezed it, amazed at how the last yea had played out. After losing his leg, if you had told him he would be here, he'd have spat in your face. "Thank you," he said as Drew pulled out of the parking lot, "thanks for not giving up on me."

He felt Drew squeeze his hand. "I can say the same exact thing to you," he whispered back. "It's not the way I wanted to get here, but I don't think I can tell you how happy I am."

Rick laughed and shut his eyes, leaning his head back against the headrest. "So… who's taking whose name?" he asked, joking.

"Well, I got disowned so," Drew replied, laughing, "I guess that means I technically don't have a last name anymore."

"Well, in less than forty eight hours, we can fix that," Rick teased and he kissed Drew's hand. "Besides, Grandma always wanted a Dr. Lincoln in the family. Not sure this is how she pictured getting one, but, hey, she got her wish?"

Drew laughed, shaking his head as steered them towards Santa Fe. Live wasn't perfect, but at least it was moving in the right direction now.


End file.
